


Absolution

by LornaLane



Series: Quocumque Modo [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Next Generation, Mild Language, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 94,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LornaLane/pseuds/LornaLane
Summary: A Follow Up to my "Quocumque Modo." (Astoria is replaced by an OC.)Scorpius Malfoy is the son of Draco and Valeria Malfoy and has spent the majority of his childhood largely isolated from the Wizarding World, under the loving and careful eyes of his parents. As he moves through his Hogwarts career, he struggles to come to terms with his parents' dark past and find himself. As dark forces begin to resurface in the Wizarding World, Scorpius takes it upon himself to fight for his beliefs and absolve his family name once and for all.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Scorpius Malfoy/Rose Weasley
Series: Quocumque Modo [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1363867
Comments: 53
Kudos: 81





	1. Prologue: The Sins of Our Fathers

**Author's Note:**

> See the endnotes for some housekeeping.

Draco Malfoy had a lot to be proud of.

He was enormously proud of the quiet life he had managed to build with wife, Valeria. After her post-Hogwarts studies, they carried on as they were, both unable to face the world. Both wanting peace, but both unable to be away from each other without feeling as though they each had been split in half. They spent their time together, exploring their respective interests and hobbies within the safe, stone walls of the Winters family fortress in an isolated Welsh mountain valley. They ventured out some, saw different parts of the continent, even visiting Valeria’s mother Odessa Winters in Estonia briefly on a few occasions, but they hardly ventured out into England, save for visiting his own parents in Wiltshire every so often.

The unplanned arrival of their son Scorpius had complicated matters.

Draco’s parents were permitted a welcoming visit a week after Scorpius was born to Narcissa’s absolute delight and Lucius’s pride. It was a surprisingly pleasant visit that gave Draco some hope for his relationship with his parents, witnessing how immediately they fell in love with his son. Odessa was equally over the moon but had been in poor health and so they visited Estonia once Valeria felt she was ready. As Scorpius grew, they spent large portions of summers in Estonia, Odessa showering her grandson with gifts and affection, to the surprise of Valeria who had never taken her mother to be the doting type. Otherwise, the small, young family continued to keep to themselves, Draco taking up all the caregiving tasks he could while Valeria recovered from childbirth. They both agreed that one child was more than enough for them after the exhausting first year.

Valeria would often comment upon just how much Scorpius resembled Draco, but other than the hair, Draco didn’t see it, even though everyone else seemed to agree with his wife. The biggest piece of evidence in Draco’s favor was Scorpius’s dark green eyes, inherited from Valeria. As the infant grew to a small boy, Draco changed his stance, then believing that the boy’s calm and sensitive nature came entirely from her. Valeria would teasingly counter that Draco may have been brasher as a boy but was just as sensitive as his own son, recalling Draco’s childhood insecurities.

Draco had no idea how navigate fatherhood and constantly felt as though he was stumbling in the dark. There were a few times where he felt he was doing something right, and those he clung to. Valeria released Scorpius’s hands and urged him to walk toward his father, only a few baby steps away on his first birthday and Draco’s heart soared when his son reached his outstretched arms all on his own. At age four, Scorpius was beside himself with tears when a little bird he tried to rescue in the fortress’s courtyard did not make it. Draco, at a loss for how to console his son, arranged a small funeral for the bird that their little family attended. Draco’s efforts soothed Scorpius’s grief and the former felt relieved.

Draco also believed that Scorpius’s inquisitive nature came from his mother. Valeria spent countless hours curled up on a sofa with him, teaching him to read since before the boy was able to hold a book, and Scorpius would demand to be read to nearly every evening. Though Scorpius’s interest in flying had to come from Draco as Valeria was terrified of flight. Valeria was kind enough to allow Draco to fly with his young son, Scorpius was quite persuasive, but only at a glacial speed and no more than a foot and a half from the ground.

Scorpius took well to independence and being an only child, enjoying the companionship of his imagination. Though young children often admire their parents and Scorpius was no exception. Draco often had to collect Scorpius from Valeria’s study as she wrote her first book, _Inquiries into Magical Philosophies and Theory_ published under a pseudonym. Draco was incredibly proud the day the publisher sent a hardcopy of the book, and read through it in one day, even though he had helped edit the manuscript several times. He was even more proud when the book was a public success, for nonfiction.

Having a child made Valeria and Draco’s rather blasé attitude toward planning for the future more complicated. Eventually, they knew that in a few short years it would be time for Scorpius to begin his magical education. Scorpius was quite intelligent and quite perceptive and had begun to ask questions of his parents; their past, his family, the world they lived in at large. Answering these questions was a careful balance of sharing the truth and what hurt too much to say.

There were some wounds that just refused to heal. Draco tried to tell Scorpius that the scar on the latter’s mother’s face came from someone who tried to hurt her, which did little more than upset the boy. Draco did not sleep easily that night, having vivid nightmares of the skirmish at Malfoy Manor. Before Scorpius’s birth, Draco and Valeria had had many long, painful discussions about what to do about their child’s questions when the time came, but now that it was happening, Draco was at a loss on what to do with no guidance to rely upon.

His parents, of course, could be counted upon to make it worse.

“Chew with your mouth closed, sweetheart,” Valeria softly reminded Scorpius, age six, who sat opposite his parents at the dinner table in Malfoy Manor. Scorpius was happily sat between his grandparents and had spent the afternoon visiting with them, his grandmother taking him to look at the peacocks in the gardens, to his delight.

“Have you seen what Shacklebolt announced yesterday?” Lucius asked Draco.

“I’m sorry to say I’m not as well informed as you, father,” Draco replied, repressing a beleaguered sigh.

“You should be,” Lucius said. “The Wizengamot is going to review an amendment to not require blood status on magical birth certificates and other such records. Apparently, Shacklebolt feels its archaic, leftover from the old lawbooks and no longer needed.”

“Terrible,” Narcissa said, turning up her nose a little. Valeria gave Draco’s knee a squeeze under the table.

“I hardly see why that’s a major issue,” Draco said quickly, returning to his meal. “Removing that line from a document doesn’t actually change anything.”

“It’s the principle, Draco, certainly you can see that,” Lucius said. Valeria squeezed Draco’s leg again, him implicitly understanding that she was asking him to keep his mouth shut until dinner was over and they could go home. “I’d bet any money that that mudblood Granger has everything to do—”

“What’s a mudblood?” Scorpius asked.

Draco threw his fork down and slammed his hands on the table, startling Narcissa and Scorpius. “I told you _never_ to use that word in front of my son!” Narcissa put her arm around Scorpius who was shaken by his father’s outburst.

“He needs to learn—!” Lucius said.

“He will learn from us and we’ve made it perfectly clear to you how we’ve chosen to raise him!” Draco shouted back, rising from his seat.

“If you won’t do your duty then _we_ will! Our legacy depends on it!” Lucius said, rising as well. Draco stepped closer to Lucius.

“And what is that exactly? Living in disgrace for everything you’ve done? What kind of goddamn legacy is that?!” Draco shouted.

“Draco!” Narcissa scolded with a hiss.

“I will not allow you talk to me that way in my own house!”

“ _My_ house! According to the traditions you hold so dear, this house became mine when I married Valeria, or should I say, when _you_ married us off! Never forget, _father,_ that the only reason we don’t live here is because we can’t stomach everything that happened here because of you!” 

“How dare you!” Lucius shouted. “How dare you call _me_ a disgrace, after failing to properly raise your heir—”

Draco was seeing red, years of barely concealed resentments boiling over. “Do you want me to tell him?! Do you want me to tell him what happened here, what happened to _her_ and me under _your_ roof?” Draco gestured to Valeria. “How you cowered in a corner and let it happen!? Should I tell him all about this?” Draco moved to lift his left sleeve, but was stopped by Valeria, who grasped his left arm. He looked at her, a warning but sympathetic look in her eye.

“Not yet. Not in front of Scorpius…” she said quietly. He nodded and was about to speak again before Scorpius let out a cry and his parents turned to see their son, red faced and in tears, trembling.

“I’m sorry!” Scorpius gasped through his cries, breathing heavy. Valeria left Draco’s side and rushed to him, helping him out of his chair and away from Narcissa. Scorpius clung to his mother and wept into her robes, hiding his face. Draco looked away in shame of himself.

“Take him home, Valeria, would you?” Draco requested calmly. With only a nod, Valeria lifted Scorpius as best she could, and he wrapped his arms around his mother, sobbing into her shoulder.

“Draco, please,” Narcissa pleaded. Valeria ignored her mother-in-law and marched out of the room, shushing Scorpius in an effort to comfort him as she did so. Once safely at home in Wales, Valeria brought Scorpius to his room and sat him on his bed. He had been soothed some, calmer now, but was still upset. Valeria continued to softly comfort him and dried his tears as they came.

“Is f—father, m—mad at me?” he asked fearfully.

“No,” Valeria urgently assured. “Never. He’s cross with your grandfather, not you. I promise.”

“But I said that word…”

“You were just asking. You didn’t know. Your grandfather should never have said it.”

“What does it mean?”

Valeria curled her lip inward as she thought of how to answer. “You remember the war, yes?” Scorpius nodded. “Well, back then, and still too, some people believed that people who had magical parents were better than people who had muggle parents, and that those people were bad. But that’s not true, so that word is a very mean word for someone with muggle parents. That’s what the war was about.”

“And grandfather thinks that those people are bad?”

“Your father can tell you better about your grandfather, but yes, he was one of the people who thought they were bad, and it seems he still does a little,” Valeria said, knowing that Lucius was just as bigoted as her ever was, but she was trying to be gentle without being dishonest.

“But father was so mad…”

“He was angry because he doesn’t want you to think like his own father taught him to think. It made his life…our lives, very hard for a long time,” Valeria said.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll understand better when you’re older, but for now all you need to know is that your father loves you very much, and he shouldn’t have yelled in front of you, but he was trying to do what’s best for you.”

Draco arrived home later, jaw still clenched from the verbal lashing he gave his parents after Valeria had left with Scorpius. He felt deep shame, seeing his son so upset, knowing he was the cause, and he knew he had to take some responsibility. He was almost more nervous to face his son than the Wizengamot at his own trial years ago. He was relieved to find Scorpius calm and tucked into bed, Valeria beside him over the covers and reading to him. They both looked up at him, Valeria smiling softly. Draco went over to the unoccupied side of the bed and sat down, looking Scorpius in the eye.

“I’m sorry I scared you. That was wrong. Can you forgive me?” Draco said. Scorpius nodded and smiled softly, so closely resembling the little smirk Valeria always wore in her youth, and often still did. “I wasn’t angry with you. Your grandfather isn’t supposed to say things like that in front of you and I lost my temper.”

“Will I ever see them again?” Scorpius asked.

“Of course,” Draco said. “Though it might be a bit. Sometimes my father needs time to cool down. They love you though, even if it’s not always in the best of ways. Did mum tell you what that word means?” Scorpius nodded. “Good. That’s why I got upset.”

“What about the other things? The…thing on your arm, you said…?” Scorpius asked. Draco tensed, his eyes darting up to Valeria who grimaced a little and inhaled deep. “I promise I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Draco said with shame, instinctively flexing his left arm.

At age seven, Scorpius begged his mother to take him to Diagon Alley. A book for some research she was doing was for pick-up only as it was rare and the management of Flourish & Blotts didn’t want to risk losing it via owl delivery. Scorpius had never been yet, his father refusing to take him when he travelled to the bank, claiming the bank would be far too boring. Valeria herself hardly ever went, handling her business by ordering things via owl. She hated walking about the streets, even if it was just out of her own paranoia. But Draco and Valeria agreed it was probably high time Scorpius learned more about the wizarding world and it was only a short errand anyway.

Scorpius nearly tripped over himself, distracted as he walked, hand tight in his mother’s, through the street, marveling at everything and everyone around him. It was the biggest rush of his life to date, other than his father agreeing to take him for very short and low-to-the-ground broom rides. That was likely why he stopped in his tracks outside Quality Quidditch Supplies and tugged on his mother’s hand.

“Can we go in?!” he begged.

“You’re far too young for Quidditch and we told your father this was going to be a short trip.”

“Please!?” he said. Valeria considered, wanting to say no, but she could hardly turn him down. This was a bit of a treat, after all.

“For a couple minutes. Then we have to go,” she said. Elated, Scorpius darted into the store, his mother quickly following after. He pulled her around the store, all the while saying “Mother, look at this! Mum, look! Mum, what is that?!” and the like. Valeria was happy to see him so excited, but she was also keeping an eye out for familiar faces, wrapped up in her own anxieties about being recognized and having an awkward encounter that her perceptive son would see. Scorpius begged her to buy him his own broom, but he settled when she instead treated him to a pair of broomsman’s gloves that he would eventually grow into. He was far too young for a broom of his own.

“My father says I should learn to fly as soon as I can, if I want to be any good!” Scorpius blurted out to the employee as she purchased the gloves, the latter quite amused with the overexcited boy.

“Sounds like a smart man,” the employee said with a little laugh.

“Yes, so smart…” Valeria said sarcastically. “Think I’ll have to have a talk with your father about that.”

Scorpius insisted on wearing the gloves immediately, though they looked a bit a silly being much too big for him. Valeria agreed if he promised not to lose them and she recalled how her own mother would have never permitted such behavior, as innocent as this was, when she was Scorpius’s age. He continued to wear them while they browsed Flourish & Blotts. Scorpius asked if he could have _A Children’s Guide to Magical History_ , which Valeria was happy to purchase, relieved to encourage her son’s more bookish interests. 

She placed the book on the encounter, Scorpius at her side. “These and a few others under the name Valeria Malfoy,” she told the employee, who went to collect the order.

“Valeria?”

Heart sinking, Valeria whipped around and saw Hermione Granger-Weasley, arms full of books. 

“Granger,” Valeria said friendlily, forgetting that it was Granger-Weasley now. “It’s good to see you.” Scorpius stood closer to his mother. “Sorry, where are my manners? This is my son, Scorpius. Say hello to Mrs. Granger-Weasley.”

“How do you do,” Scorpius greeted while flashing a soft smile, still standing closer to his mother.

“He’s a little shy,” Valeria excused, her hand comfortingly on Scorpius’s head.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Hermione said, smiling kindly. “I’m here with my daughter, Rose, she’s off looking for something.” There was an awkward pause. “Listen, I wanted to write to you a while ago, to ask, but I didn’t really know how. Are you Richard Hemmingbrook?”

Valeria froze. That was the pseudonym she published under. She should have figured Hermione would read her book. “How did you figure…?”

“The dedication. I remember it said “ _For KSW_ ,” that’s your brother, Konstantin, right?”

“You got me,” Valeria said, trying to hide her nerves.

“I loved it! It was completely fascinating,” Hermione said.

Valeria laughed modestly. “You’re too kind. I mainly do that as a hobby…”

“No, it was great. It’s important work too, thinking about magic like that all the way back to its roots, and no one else is doing that right now. Are you working on anything else, because I’d love to hear—”

“They don’t have it, mum,” a little girl with bushy auburn hair atop her head came to Hermione’s side, disappointed.

“I’m sorry, Rosie. I told you it was popular, and they might not have it. We’ll try again next time. Sorry, Valeria, this is my daughter, Rose.”

“Charmed,” Valeria said, smiling to the girl, who returned the greeting with a toothy grin.

“Rose, say hello to Scorpius,” Hermione said, and the girl did, much more confident than Scorpius. Hermione looked to Valeria again. “She was really looking forward to that children’s magical history book.”

Behind Valeria, the seller placed the bagged items on the counter and charged her for the merchandise. Valeria took the bag in hand, but Scorpius, still at her side, reached in and dug out the book he got for himself and held it out to Rose.

“You can have it…if you want,” he said shyly. Hermione, seeing what was happening, intervened.

“That’s very nice of you, but that’s okay,” she said to Scorpius.

“No, really. I can read it later,” Scorpius said.

“Scorpius, are you sure?” Valeria asked. He looked at her and nodded. “She can have it, Granger. If that’s okay with you.”

Hermione dug for her own money. “At least let me pay you for it.”

Valeria held up a hand. “No need. Enjoy it.”

“Rose, what do you say to Scorpius and Mrs. Malfoy?”

“Thank you!” Rose said, taking the book, genuinely excited. Hermione looked surprised and a bit touched at the sight.

“Listen, Valeria, I know it’s been a while, but maybe we could talk sometime. I’d love to hear about whatever you’re working on…” Hermione said.

“Yeah, maybe we can put something together sometime. I’m afraid we have to go, I told Draco that we’d be back, and I don’t want him to worry,” Valeria said. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Right, of course. It was…good to see you again. And it was nice to meet you, Scorpius.”

“Father!” Scorpius said beaming, running to Draco after they returned from Diagon Alley.

“Did you have fun?” Draco asked.

“Mother let me get these!” Scorpius said, proudly showing off the gloves he was still wearing.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Valeria. “ _Your_ mother let you get broomsman's gloves? Let me have a look.”

“Apparently someone’s been encouraging him,” Valeria said.

“Mother said I’m not allowed a broom yet…” Scorpius said.

“Well, she’s right about that. Looks like good quality to me. We’ll have to break them in soon,” Draco said, ignoring Valeria’s snarky comment. Valeria cleared her throat and Draco changed his tone. “With your mother’s permission, of course. Why don’t you put these away and get ready for dinner.” Scorpius agreed and darted out of the room, still buzzing with excitement. Draco took the heavy bag of books from Valeria and she followed him into his study. “Seems like the trip went well.”

“It did,” Valeria said with a nod. “Ran into Granger at Flourish & Blotts.” Draco stopped and looked up at her as he was unpacking the purchases.

“How was that?” he asked with a sneer, tone noticeably shifting.

“Fine, I suppose. She figured it out my pseudonym. I hope she doesn’t go around telling—”

“It’ll be fine,” Draco said.

“But if people know that _I’m_ writing about magical philosophy and ethics of all things…”

“It’s not illegal. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“I know. It’s just. I don’t know, it threw me a bit,” Valeria said. “Anything eventful here?”

Draco scoffed. Almost nothing eventful happened in their remote home, which was just how he preferred it. He picked up a copy of _The Daily Prophet_ and handed it to her.

“Page five,” Draco said. “Rodolphus is still nowhere to be found and Goyle hasn’t shown up to his job for two weeks. His wife isn’t home either apparently.”

“What do you make of it?” she asked, scanning page five of the paper.

“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, but I can’t shake it,” he admitted.

“Have you…heard anything?”

He looked at her with a furrowed brow. “No, Valeria.”

“I meant maybe your father would have mentioned something if he knows anything…”

“I doubt he’d tell me anything if he knew,” Draco said. Things were still tense between them and the elder Malfoys, but Draco had been doing his best to keep his own family out of it. “I’m keeping an eye on it.”

A few more days passed and Valeria received an unexpected letter from a rather regal owl and was surprised to see a Ministry seal. She opened it, allowing Draco to read over her shoulder.

 _Dear Mrs. Valeria Malfoy,_

_I am writing to formally invite you to hold a seat on the newly formed Ministry Committee for the Improvement of Wizarding Relations. This committee is intentionally formed by the Ministry to be comprised of individuals of various blood-statuses and backgrounds in the hopes of building bridges amongst the magical community at large. Due to your experiences and background, I believe you would be a great fit._

_We will meet monthly to discuss various issues currently hindering further cooperative relations in our world. We will discuss current events, legislation and other pertinent topics as necessary. Should you have any questions or concerns, do not hesitate to contact me or propose an in-person meeting._

_I appreciate your time and look forward to your response. I hope you will agree to join us._

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione Granger-Weasley_

_Department of Magical Law Enforcement_


	2. Guilt By Association

_Scorpius crept into his parents’ room early in the morning of June eighteenth one summer. Along the way, through the winding, narrow halls of the small castle that his mother’s family called home from centuries, he had to pass the mysterious room, one of the few his parents forbade him to ever enter. But that was of little concern now. He stepped carefully across the ancient stone floor and over to his still sleeping father who laid alone in his parents’ stately bed._

_Nervous, as any child would be to rouse their parent from sleep, Scorpius gently shook his father’s relaxed arm, doing so with more force to try to wake him. Draco’s eyes opened to see his son and groggily, sat up, trying to hide any annoyance at having been woken up earlier than he liked._

_“What is it, Scorpius?” Draco asked, but as he did, he noticed Valeria was not in bed beside him, which sent familiar fear rushing through him. It was primal, instinctual, and he was forced to recall with the sharp pain of memory the loneliness and terror of the years past. “Where’s your mother?”_

_“I saw her outside by the tree. I think she’s crying. I didn’t know what to do…” Scorpius said nervously, unsure of what was happening and a bit jarred by his father’s demeanor. Draco quickly got out of bed and rushed to the window that faced inward, toward the open-air courtyard at the center of the fortress. It was just as Scorpius said. Valeria was below in the courtyard, kneeling before the lilac tree her brother had enchanted to bloom year-round in the Welsh valley. Draco was confused in his early morning grogginess, quite concerned rather, until he noticed the spot where she sat. He sighed, sadly and deeply, looking to the floor as the realization occurred. He had to think on his feet now that Scorpius had seen. It was an odd feeling. His son was getting older. He was starting to learn things Draco wasn’t ready to teach._

_Draco crouched to his son’s eye-level._

_“Today’s a hard day for your mother. Come on,” Draco said. He grabbed a robe off a rack and carried his son down the winding stairs and out into the courtyard’s entrance, where he set Scorpius down. “Give her a hug. I’m right behind you.”_

_Scorpius followed his father’s gentle command and approached his mother from behind. He had never seen her like this and he wanted nothing more than to make it stop. With childlike determination, he reached for her, standing at her side and wrapped his arms around her shoulders the best he could. Her breath hitched at the embrace, but she responded, still in tears, by taking Scorpius in her arms and holding him tight. She placed her forehead on the top of his head for a moment. Draco approached from the other side and sat beside his wife, snaking his hand around her waist._

_Scorpius looked at the headstone on the ground before the small family. He had seen it hundreds of times, but never took the time to try and read it. His parents always told him they’d explain when he was older._

_“K…Konstantin Silve…ster….Wint…” Scorpius read slowly._

_“Your uncle Konstantin,” Valeria whispered gently. “See?” she gestured to the little metal locket, now opened for the first time in Scorpius’s memory, fused into the stone. Within was a photographic portrait of a young man that Scorpius did not recognize, but the likeness resembled his mother; Dark haired, polished face, dark eyed. He looked like a stern and serious person, but what mattered to Scorpius now was his mother’s tears._

“I can’t believe Longbottom’s doing this to us! He’s always so nice when he comes ‘round for dinner _and_ he’s my godfather!” Albus Potter complained, wiping down yet another trophy in the Trophy Room at Hogwarts.

“You were the one that made us late, Albus,” Scorpius said with a laugh. Scorpius was happy to miss as much of Herbology class as possible as it was, currently, his least favorite class. He was terrible with plants, a trait he inherited from his mother, so his father would say.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it was your excuse that got us in trouble. I thought you were supposed to be a good liar. Why’d you think ‘ _We got lost, Professor Longbottom’_ would work?” Albus said.

Scorpius laughed again. “You remember how he said it too? ‘ _Third years should know their way to the greenhouses by now.’_ I thought that was kind of funny.” Scorpius mimicked Professor Longbottom’s tone in a mocking voice that made Albus laugh.

“Wipe faster. The sooner we get this over with, the faster we can back to the common room. Harper just got a new game of Table Quidditch from his parents and I don’t want to miss it,” Albus said. Scorpius finished work on one trophy and went to the other end of the room. The two friends continued to joke across the room and Scorpius was pleased he wasn’t doing this task alone. It was better to be in trouble with a friend, truly.

“…And then I told my mum that I wished it was Bring Your Child to Work Day back when she still actually played Quidditch and I thought she was gonna kill me, but instead she laughed. But then I was stuck in my dad’s office all day, so I don’t really know what’s worse. My uncle Ron kept calling me an intern and it was so embarrassing! You ever do something like that? Or is every day Bring Your Child to Work Day since your parents are always like…home? That sounds miserable. Scorpius?” Scorpius missed most of Albus’s story, which was unlike him. Albus called out for Scorpius again and went to find his fellow Slytherin friend when he received no response. He quickly found Scorpius, looking at a dusty old trophy, only the engraving was clean where Scorpius had wiped away the grime of neglect. “You alright?”

Scorpius was jolted from his thoughts, noticing Albus’s close company and shook his head. “Yeah, fine. Just lost my head for a second, sorry.”

Albus remained unconvinced and leaned over to read the engraving.

_INTER-HOUSE QUDDITCH CUP_

_MOST VALUABLE PLAYER AWARD_

_1987-1988_

_KONSTANTIN S. WINTERS_

_SLYTHERIN QUIDDITCH CAPTAIN_

“Weird, the other most valuable players trophies are over there. What’s with this one?” Albus asked.

“That’s my uncle…” Scorpius quietly admitted. “He…He died.”

“Did you know him? I didn’t know you had an uncle,” Albus said.

Scorpius shook his head. “He died before I was born.”

“How?” Albus asked.

“My mother won’t talk about it. My father just says they’ll tell me when I’m older, and who knows when that’ll be,” Scorpius said.

“Why’s it bothering you so much?” Albus said, quickly realizing what he said. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, you seem kind of…shocked by it.” Scorpius blushed, unsure if he was ready to tell his friend more about how strange his family could be sometimes, but he looked at Albus and trusted him, reading genuine concern on his face.

“Every year, on the anniversary of the day he died, my mother just sits at his grave and cries. I was just, remembering that, I guess,” Scorpius said. He hated watching his mother cry when he was younger, knowing there was nothing he could do, especially when no one would explain it to him. Albus said nothing but stood by his friend with understanding. He shifted his weight, standing firm, when an idea came to him.

“Let’s take it,” Albus said.

“What?!” Scorpius said.

“Let’s take it. Your mum loved her brother, right? It belongs to her,” Albus said.

“I’m pretty sure it belongs to the school,” Scorpius said.

“And look what they’ve done with it. They shoved it away in some dusty old corner, who knows why—”

“I’m sure it’s some kind of mistake,” Scorpius interrupted.

“So what if it is? If it’s been here this long, they won’t notice it’s missing,” Albus said. He put an encouraging hand firmly on Scorpius’s shoulder. “He’s your family, Scorpius. This belongs to your family.”

“I don’t see you trying to steal your dad’s trophies,” Scorpius argued. Albus rolled his eyes.

“No offense, but they're more likely to notice my dad’s stuff going missing than your uncle’s. Besides, I’m surrounded by _famous Harry Potter_ stuff enough as it is," Albus said. Scorpius thought on it. All he could remember was his mother’s sadness, the pained look on her face whenever Scorpius asked about his uncle. There were tears in his maternal grandmother’s eyes when he asked about Konstantin one summer visit in Estonia. He wanted to do something, anything that could help. Maybe if he did, his parents would tell him something.

“Alright, let’s do it. Quickly though,” Scorpius said. He remembered his mother telling him that his father got up to trouble sometimes at Hogwarts and how often he got away with it. Surely his father’s son could do the same.

“That’s the spirit! The question is, how do we get it out without anyone noticing? It’s huge!” Albus said. Scorpius thought for a second and pulled out his wand.

“We just learned the Shrinking Charm last week!”

“Brilliant!”

“ _Reducio!_ ” Scorpius said, aiming at the trophy and at his command it shrunk to the size of a standard goblet.

“Great, now let’s get out of here. The place is clean enough. Tuck it in your robes,” Albus said. Scorpius did so and the two set off and headed down for the corridors. Scorpius was quite pleased with himself, excited with energetic mischief. The boys were congratulating each other on a job well-done, but they spoke too soon.

“Oooooh! Potty and Malfy out and about looking for trouble?”

The boys turned to see Peeves behind them.

“ _Malfy_?” Scorpius said judgmentally. Just didn’t have a nice ring to it.

“We’re going back from detention, Peeves. Bugger off!” Albus commanded.

“So sure, so sure! But do I spy a bulge in Malfy’s robes or does itty bitty baby Malfy have to see Madam Longbottom in the Hospital Wing?!” Peeves said with a shrill, gleeful laugh. In the boys’ haste, the shrunken trophy in Scorpius's robes had shifted and was indeed poking out from under the fabric. Scorpius quickly adjusted it.

“You heard him, bugger off!” Scorpius said in a haughty tone that, unbeknownst to him, resembled his own father’s drawl at around the same age.

“Caught! Caught! Caught!” Peeves cried gleefully. “Up to no good just like mummy and daddy!”

“Shut up!” Scorpius yelled.

“Come on, let’s go,” Albus said, turning away. Scorpius followed his friend, but Peeves was relentless.

“ _Malfy’s got a mummy who brewed something funny. Malfy’s got daddy who was a big baddie! Wedding was dark from daddy’s mark! Because of them, we got Malfy from the family stem!”_ Peeves sang.

“That was your worst song, Peeves,” Albus said. “Scorpius, don’t—!”

The song had the desired effect, or so it seemed, on Scorpius whose usual mild temperament was overcome by anger at Peeves’s words. He had taken out his wand and cast a spell in Peeves direction before Albus could stop him. In a quick sequence, Scorpius’s spells obviously did not strike Peeves and instead blew a small whole in the wall behind him. The trophy had fallen out of the pocket of Scorpius’s robes when he removed his wand and fell to the floor with a clang. The sound of the spell hitting the wall, and Scorpius shouting the spell, echoed throughout the corridor, amplified by the relative silence of the hall.

Albus had been too distracted trying to stop his friend to immediately grab and stash the trophy. Peeves cackled and made a hasty, triumphant exit. Before Albus could admonish his friend for losing his temper, they heard the sound of quick footsteps headed their way. It was then that Scorpius realized what happened and dove his hand to the shrunken trophy, but it was too late.

“Peeves, what’re you—?” Professor Longbottom stopped in his tracks as he came upon the boys, holding a small pot that housed a nocturnal plant. He immediately spotted Scorpius picking up the shiny trophy and his expression changed. Scorpius flushed red. Longbottom calmly reached out his hand as he stepped toward them. “I’ll be taking that, Malfoy.”

“Sir, we can explain—!” Albus began. Longbottom looked at the engraving on the trophy and Scorpius swore he could see a flash of a memory cross the professor’s expression. Longbottom sighed, not out of anger or aggravation, but of a sort of somber realization. “We’ll put it back. We’ll fix it.”

“I’m afraid this is something I’ll have to take to the Headmistress, boys,” Longbottom said.

“No, please don’t,” Albus pleaded.

“I’m sorry, but it’s out of my hands,” Longbottom said, looking at Scorpius with a mildly pitiful sympathy. Scorpius, for his part, could not bear to look at either of the others, brow furrowed as he looked away in shame and embarrassment.

The fog had yet to lift in Hogsmeade upon the Malfoys’ arrival the next morning casting an eerie aura where they stood. A local morning busy body who looked out their window to see them, dressed in dark colored elegant robes, would have been forgiven in thinking for a moment that something wicked had landed in the village. In truth, it was only Draco and Valeria, who were likely, out of anyone there, to be the most uncomfortable about their return to this place.

Arm in arm, the Malfoys walked the stretch of road to the castle, neither particularly happy to be up and traveling so early.

“Never thought I’d come back here,” Draco mused as the castle gate came into sight.

“I never wanted to,” Valeria said in agreement. She could recall the whimsical joy her early school years brought her, but her final two and half years of attendance had been almost nothing but miserable. The darkness of their seventh year weighed most heavy on her mind and she had no desire to ever return. Draco felt the same, and though he could claim some fond memories, he never liked school and spent most of his time as a student waiting for it to be over.

A figure stood at the castle’s gate and Draco nearly stopped in his tracks upon recognition.

“Filch?! He’s still here?” Draco blurted out. Valeria shushed him. “I didn’t even know he was still alive.”

“Don’t be rude,” Valeria scolded under her breath.

“I don’t think he’ll be able to hear me, someone of his age. Do you think that damned cat is still alive too?” Draco asked in a harsh whisper.

“Just let me do the talking,” Valeria said as they approached, stopping before Filch. Valeria still had some of her charming talents left and carried herself now with the distinctive Winters poise. “Mr. Filch, a pleasure to see you again.”

Filch’s satisfied sneer told her that he was very much enjoying a student being in enough trouble for their parents to be summoned to the castle. Valeria wondered if he would even remember her or Draco given the hundreds of students that passed through those hallowed halls over his many decades of service. Then again, Filch had a bit of a knack for remembering students that he caught in even the most minor of violations. She suspected though that his memory was more akin to holding grudges.

“Not sure you’ll be sayin’ that once this is over. Your son has found himself in quite the mess.” Filch turned his back to them. “I’ll take you to the headmistress, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy.”

“And I don’t suppose you’ll tell us what our son has actually done.” Draco said.

“Afraid that’s up to the Headmistress. This way.”

“Of course it is,” Draco mumbled under his breath with a snobbish scowl.

It was a Saturday and judging by the empty corridors, the students had wisely taken the opportunity to sleep in that morning. The clacking of her shoes echoed through the stone corridors as Valeria tried to keep her eyes straight ahead. Everywhere else she looked brought to her mind images of the darkness of seventh year and one corridor they traversed in particular was one of those that she had sprinted down in panic to reach the Astronomy Tower sixth year. Filch knocked on the door of the Headmistress’s office once they had ascended the stair and it opened to allow them entry.

“Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, Headmistress,” Filch announced in his nasally tone and Albus saw Scorpius swallow a little lump in his throat before he himself turned shyly. As Scorpius’s parents approached the unoccupied chairs awaiting them, Albus realized he had only ever really seen them at some distance at Platform 9 ¾, never this close. He was struck by Mr. Malfoy’s stiff sternness and his wife’s stoic poise. He tried not to stare at the long scar that crossed Mrs. Malfoy’s done-up face and turned away to avoid being mistaken for gawking.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, so early,” Professor McGonagall, who was supposedly on the verge of her retirement said as she stood to greet the new arrivals. Valeria felt Draco tense beside her as he surveyed the room upon approach, Longbottom standing beside McGonagall’s desk and Gemma Farley, who had been hired to teach Potions and was now the Head of Slytherin House, on the other side. Two empty chairs were set on either side of each boy and Scorpius kept his head down as his parents sat by him. He hardly moved when his mother’s hand touched his and was sure to avert his gaze from his stony-faced father.

“Longbottom, I didn’t realize my son was in Gryffindor,” Draco said.

“Professor Longbottom was the one who brought this to my attention and so I asked him to be present, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall said.

“Gemma, it’s good to see you again,” Valeria said with a polite smile. She remembered Gemma as being an older prefect her first year of school and though she could not recall the woman being renown for her skill in potions, Scorpius spoke well of her as a teacher.

“You both as well,” Gemma replied. Draco glanced over at Albus out of the corner of his eye before he spoke again.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I suppose it’s time to inform us as to why we were called here,” Draco said.

“I believe it would be prudent to wait until the Potters arrive,” McGonagall said.

“What do the Potters have to do with my son?” Draco asked.

“This concerns both him and Albus,” McGonagall said running short on patience.

“Then I’ll ask him myself,” Draco said before turning to his son. “What’s this about, Scorpius?”

“I…I uh—” Scorpius began, but he was spared the ordeal of having to explain what happened when the door flew open. All looked up to see Harry and Ginny Potter walk quickly into the room and Harry shoving his watch into a pocket.

“Sorry we’re late. I got buried in some sudden paperwork at the Ministry,” Harry said. McGonagall was visibly relieved to see them, but the Malfoys kept their gazes straight forward.

“No matter. Where’s Filch? He was supposed to escort you—”

“I told Hagrid we were coming ahead of time and so he must have found us first and let us through the gates,” Harry said, taking a seat beside his own son.

“Yes, well, I’ll have to have a talk with him about that…” McGonagall said as the Potters exchanged more cheerful pleasantries with Longbottom.

“I hate to cut your reunion short, but I think I’ve made it clear that we would like to know exactly why we’re here,” Draco said impatiently.

“Of course,” McGonagall relented. “Professor Longbottom, perhaps you should start.”

“Right. The boys were late for their Herbology lesson and so I gave them a detention; cleaning the awards in the trophy room without magic, which they served last night. However, I heard a ruckus and came ‘round to see Scorpius had damaged school property, though it was an easy repair, attempting to attack Peeves and…” Neville began.

McGonagall reached into a drawer on her desk and pulled out the shrunken trophy that still more closely resembled a golden goblet and placed it at the front edge of the desk. “And this was on Scorpius’s person, shrunken and stolen from the trophy room.”

Scorpius could feel his father’s eye roll and swallowed, knowing what was coming next. He almost wished McGonagall would just come right out with it instead of torturing him like this.

“I hardly see how shrinking and nicking a trophy unsuccessfully warrants us being called, or have Hogwarts standards changed so drastically since—” Draco began.

“They have indeed changed since you were last a student, Mr. Malfoy,” McGonagall pointedly interrupted. She picked up the cup and held it up towards Valeria. “I believe you should have a look at this, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Scorpius swallowed again as his mother stood to pick up the cup and turned it over in hand to read its engraving. Keeping his head down but looked at his mother with bated breath and through the blond hair that fell a bit sloppily in his face, his heart sank to see her appear to stand perfectly still where she stood. Her poised demeanor morphing instantaneously to tension and her shoulders slumping ever so slightly to make herself smaller. He should have known that his father could see the change just as easily, perhaps easier.

“Valeria…?” Draco asked, all his aggravated impatience absent from his tone, now full of concern. Valeria turned slowly to Scorpius and their eyes met for the first time since their arrival and Scorpius felt something that resembled a tumultuous cocktail of shame and embarrassment. Shame for indirectly delivering something painful to her and embarrassment for having failed to do so according to plan.

“Scorpius…” Valeria said just above a whisper. Draco stood from his seat and took the cup from his wife, realization washing over his expression too. Scorpius found his father harder to read at times, and he could not read his father’s face now, which only made the boy feel worse.

“Care to fill us in?” Harry Potter asked. Scorpius was even more embarrassed that this was happening in front of the famous Harry Potter, and for once wished that his own good friend Albus was a different man’s son. Draco set the trophy down at the far edge of the desk and Harry went to examine it himself before returning it and whispering in his wife’s ear.

“Scorpius, why did you—?” Draco asked softly, placing a hand on Valeria’s shoulder.

“I—I was just trying to—” Scorpius said, trying to find the words while seeing his mother hang her head.

“And how did you fall into all this, Albus?” Harry asked, quietly. “Did you feel pressured or—”

“What are you implying, Potter?” Draco asked defensively.

“Since Scorpius had the trophy and was the one who tried to attack Peeves…I’m just trying to get the story straight, Malfoy—” Harry said, trying to be delicate.

“By _assuming_ my son is guiltier than yours when neither have said their side of the story? Is that how you handle your work as an Auror too, Potter? If so, I think it’s safe for me to _assume_ the Department of Magical Law enforcement is more unjust and incompetent than ever—” Draco spat.

“Draco, stop,” Valeria hissed.

“I’d listen to your wife if I were you, Malfoy,” Ginny said.

“Is that a threat?” Draco asked.

“I apologize for any offense, Malfoy, but I just assumed based off…based off history—” Potter said.

“History? Scorpius’s? I hear your James has caused more trouble here than either of these boys combined so far. I can only guess that you’re not referring to Scorpius’s _history_ —”

“That’s a conversation for another time,” Harry said.

“I don’t plan on crossing paths again anytime soon, Potter, so if you have something to accuse us of us do it now,” Draco said.

“This is about Albus and Scorpius and what happened last night—” Ginny said with a warning tone.

“Forgive me for coming to my son’s defense, Weasley,” Draco said.

“Stop!”

Scorpius looked up, gritting his teeth as he endured the conversation, growing more embarrassed by his father’s words each second. Albus was standing, facing the entire room.

“Mr. Malfoy’s right, dad. It was all my idea. I told Scorpius that we should take the trophy and got him to do it,” Albus confessed.

“Albus…?” Potter said, taken aback. “You don’t have to take the blame if you—”

“I’m not! I’m telling the truth! We were cleaning and Scorpius stopped when he saw that trophy and he…Mrs. Malfoy, he said how you…how it’s sometimes still hard on you, your brother, I mean, and so I told him that he should take it and give it to you,” Albus explained. All eyes were on Valeria now, but she only looked at Scorpius and he could see in his mother’s eyes shock, but also something heartwarming.

“But that doesn’t explain what happened with Peeves,” Ginny said.

“That was me,” Scorpius said, speaking up for the first time, strengthened by Albus’s confession.

“But it wasn’t all his fault. Peeves was trying to get a rise out of him. He was saying…singing this song…”

“Out with it, Albus,” Potter said encouragingly.

“He was saying things…about my parents,” Scorpius said quietly. The room fell quiet as the older Malfoys averted their gaze, taking Scorpius’s meaning. “I’m sorry, I just…I lost my temper.”

“It seems there was no malicious intent in the boys’ actions,” Gemma Farley said after a silence.

“That being the case, there are still rules at this school, Professor Farley” McGonagall said.

“I agree, but as their head of house, I believe the final disciplinary decision rests with me,” Farley said.

“We didn’t think anyone would miss it anyway!” Albus said, defending himself and his friend once more. “The trophy wasn’t even with the others like it. It was in some dusty old corner somewhere. That’s why I said it should belong to Mrs. Malfoy.”

“What does that mean?” Valeria asked, the comment catching her attention, as she turned to Professor McGonagall.

“I’m sure you can understand, Mrs. Malfoy…After the Battle of Hogwarts there was some…concern amongst the staff about displaying things associated with…That is to say…” Professor McGonagall again. Scorpius curled his lip inwards, knowing that this was not going to end well. Scorpius also realized with shame and sadness that his uncle's trophy being stored away from the others was no mistake. Even the good accomplishments of his relatives were too despised in the walls of Hogwarts to display. 

“There’s no need to dance around the words you’re trying to say, _Professor_ ,” Valeria said darkly.

“I’m open to revisiting—”

“Just say that you didn’t want a _Death Eater’s_ trophy displayed with the other, worthier, ones!” Valeria said.

“I’m sorry this has brought up painful memories for you and your family—”

“You haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about when it comes to my brother,” Valeria said, her words dripping with disdain.

“And perhaps we have been overzealous in the past—”

“And yet, I remember Tom Riddle’s awards being displayed in there while we were students,” Draco said. Scorpius could have sworn he saw his mother’s shoulders tremble with rage just a moment before she turned on her heels and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her. His father let out a small, sad sigh and pinched the skin between his brow.

“McGonagall, it seems we’ve gotten to the meat of the matter. I say it’s time we wrap this up, decide how the boys should be disciplined. I’m sure, in the matter of Konstantin’s trophy, my wife’s and mine substantial donations to this institution will be considered as you revisit your decision on how to display it,” Draco said, all of his stern seriousness returning to him.

Valeria had not gone off far. She stood at a window nearby, gazing out onto a small section of the grounds that was occupied by a few students lazily taking in the Saturday air. She recalled her own memories of this place, trying to think of them fondly, but struggling in the midst of all that had been ripped from her all those years ago.

“Valeria.”

She turned to see Neville Longbottom approaching, several minutes after her unceremonious departure, a strained polite smile on his face and she turned away quickly.

“I apologize for my…disrespect. I just needed a moment,” she said.

“Understandable,” Longbottom replied.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, not entirely pleased to be in his company, which was awkward at best.

“I thought you should know…He’s a good kid, Valeria,” Longbottom said. “Could apply himself some more in Herbology, maybe, but he’s a good kid.”

“Does that surprise you, Longbottom?” Valeria asked.

“I mean, a little bit, yeah,” he said, trying to be delicate in his bluntness. “Malfoy especially was somewhat of a terror back in school…”

“Scorpius is not his father any more than Draco is his own or I mine,” Valeria said bluntly.

“That’s what I’m trying to say,” Longbottom said. “We, the staff, don’t hold it, any of it, against Scorpius. I wanted you to know that.”

Valeria scoffed a little, remembering Potter’s accusations against Scorpius just minutes ago. “I’ll believe that more when I see it, Longbottom.”

“Mother.”

Valeria looked over Neville’s shoulder to see Scorpius approaching tentatively. Longbottom understood his cue to go and nodded to Valeria before heading back into the Headmistress’s office. Scorpius came to his mother and she embraced him, and the boy suddenly felt comfort and peace wash over him as if, perhaps, it would be alright.

“I’m sorry about what I did,” he said quietly.

“Your heart was in the right place, that counts for something. But Scorpius, you don’t need to fight my battles for me. I don’t want you to fight any battles at all. Ever,” she said.

“I just wanted to learn more about him…what happened, and I thought that if I could—” Scorpius said.

“There’ll be time for that. I promise, just not now. Is that alright?” she said. Scorpius nodded, not expecting to learn anything now anyway. “Alright. How’s your father handling things in there?”

“Like he usually does,” Scorpius said with a little laugh and she laughed too.

“I better go clean up his mess then,” she said, half-joking, before embracing her son again. “All I want you to do is try to have the best time here that you can.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. You know, that Albus boy…keep him around. He seems like a good friend.”

“He is.”

Valeria had tapped her wand on her son’s head to magically fix his hair before she and Draco departed. Draco had told his son how her parents were very keen on maintaining appearences to the extreme and that she had decided before he was born to spare Scorpius the same expectations and treatment. Scorpius’s hair was the one exception. _“She does it to me too, son. Just make her happy,”_ Draco had once told Scorpius with a wink. After both sets of parents had set off and the boys were saddled with another two weeks of Saturday detentions, they made their way to lunch, more than ready to blow off some steam and return to normal once more.

“You know, your parents are a lot less scary than I thought,” Albus said.

“They’re not scary. They are really weird though,” Scorpius admitted.

“Yeah, well, my dad’s pretty weird too. Whole family, really.”

“Does your dad…dislike me? He just assumed that I made you steal the trophy and—”

“Don’t even think about it. I don’t care what he thinks, and neither should you. I think I set him straight, but if I didn’t, then it’s his loss,” Albus said.

“Off to steal more presents for your mummy, Malfoy?” Clarence Boot called out to the great amusement of his friends, as he passed them on the way to the Great Hall. Scorpius tensed, but Albus stepped toward Clarence as the latter sauntered off.

“Don’t even get me started on _your_ mum, Boot!” Albus shouted through the corridor. “Ignore him. I bet he’s the stupidest Ravenclaw ever sorted.”

“How did he know?” Scorpius asked.

“Albus!”

Both boys turned to see Rose Granger-Weasley trotting up to them in her Gryffindor robes, her auburn hair even more unruly today, looking windblown and her face flushed. She’d obviously been taking the air outside that morning.

“What happened? How’d it go?” she asked expectantly. Scorpius tried to hide blushing when he saw her, still ashamed of having gotten in trouble and revealing his embarrassment to her.

“About as well as it could. Got more detentions though,” Albus said with a sigh.

“You should feel lucky that’s all it was. Seriously, how could you think that’d be a good plan?” Rose scolded.

“I didn’t expect you to understand, Rose, and we don’t need another lecture. Our parents did enough of that already this morning,” Albus said.

“Let’s hope it sinks in this time,” Rose said.

“How did Clarence Boot know?” Scorpius asked again. Rose looked taken aback and blushed a little.

“I mean…word travels fast around here. You couldn’t expect to keep it secret forever…” she said.

“Rose, what did you do?” Albus asked. “Did you tell James?!”

“You know how he is! He wouldn’t stop pestering me about it and I’m a terrible liar…”

“I do know how he is, and I also know he can’t keep a bloody thing to himself. I told you not to tell him!” Albus said.

“Wait, you’re the one who told _her_?” Scorpius asked Albus.

“In confidence!” Albus said, glaring at Rose. “She was worried, Scorpius, I didn’t know what to say, I’m sorry.” Scorpius’s expression twisted and he turned away from Rose.

“Scorpius, I’m sorry,” Rose said.

“It’s fine. Come on, Albus,” Scorpius said, defeated, taking a few steps toward the Great Hall. Albus caught up to his friend, neither looking back at Rose who futilely called out after them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments/kudos and for giving this a shot. Stay well, stay safe.


	3. Legacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of suicide.

_“Remember, sit quietly, just for a little while. When your mother’s done, we’ll take you to get ice cream in Diagon Alley,” Draco said, a guiding hand on his son’s hand tight as they made their way through the bustling Ministry of Magic atrium. Scorpius was beaming, both from the prospect of a reward and from the awe he felt at what he saw. The gleaming atrium was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The vibrant energy was borderline overwhelming as he clutched a book to his chest._

_When they arrived at their destination after meandering through the intricate magical maze that the Ministry was, Scorpius was disappointed to be standing before a rather dull and quiet office, as opposed to the excitement in the atrium. Draco knocked loud on the door and was greeted by a man Scorpius didn’t recognize but looked around his father’s age._

_“My apologies, Boot. I’m a bit early,” Draco said._

_“No, that’s fine,” Terry Boot said awkwardly. “Come in, have a seat.”_

_“I hope it’s alright I brought my son. My wife’s in a meeting here and—”_

_“It’s quite alright,” Boot said, though Draco was unconvinced by the former’s tone. “And how old are you?”_

_“Nine!” Scorpius replied proudly._

_“My Clarence is around that age,” Boot said. Boot magicked a spare chair for Scorpius to sit on while the adults talked further off at Boot’s desk. Boot presented Draco with a stack of paperwork, which Draco glossed over. “As you can see, your father has been…difficult in this matter. He sent us this in response to our warnings.”_

_Draco read over the letter, ignoring the urge to make a comment about how he should have known Terry bloody Boot would become a glorified tax collector. The letter was unsurprising, and Draco read the indignant reply in his father’s voice. Draco tossed the letter back onto the desk when he was finished._

_“If my father wants to refuse to pay his own taxes then that has nothing to do with me,” Draco said, annoyed that he had been called in here like this when the quarrel the Wizarding Revenue Service had was with Lucius, not him._

_“I understand, and I don’t mean to pry into a family matter, Malfoy, but you need to remember that here,” Boot began, directing Draco to another document. “At the event of your marriage to Valeria Winters, as the laws and traditions governing the Malfoy estate lay out, you came into ownership of said estate. While your father may manage it, if he does not comply with the new regulations around the taxation of older, wealthier, wizarding estates, the penalties shall fall on you, not him.”_

_Draco looked over the documentation, bearing his own signature, and he at once felt seventeen years old again, signing document after document, the same he looked upon now, that his father handed him without reading them, lost in the traumatic haze of his forced nuptials. Lucius had reassured him the documents were mere formalities, even insisting that while Draco may legally own Malfoy Manor and its grounds, that Lucius was the one who would be managing the affairs. It had comforted Draco at the time, with everything that happened and being miserable himself with a miserable, terrified wife. Taxes, property laws and other bureaucratic nonsense had seemed so far away from him at the time._

_Stirred back into the present, Draco felt ire. He had spent many years after the war resenting what his father had done, or rather hadn’t done, and now it was coming back to bite him again. Lucius had been ranting and raving, both in letters and in person, about the new taxation regulations. The wizarding economy of the United Kingdom had suffered in the years following the war due to the unprecedented costs of rebuilding the very world. Regulations on the taxation of older, grander estates owned primarily by wealthy, pureblood families had been long in the making, but were blocked at every turn for years. Only recently had they finally been passed into law. The Ministry insisted the measures would allow every part of the wizarding world the opportunity to contribute to healing it. Lucius, however, staunchly believed it was further punishment. Draco simply did not care._

_“I’ll talk to him. I’ll get you what is owed by the end of the week as I need to arrange the transfer with Gringotts,” Draco said. Boot seemed both surprised and relieved._

_“That would be great. I’ll settle the matter once we receive the payments. I’m sorry to inconvenience you like this…” Boot said, still extremely uncomfortable._

_“No matter. Is that all?” Draco asked._

_“Yes, of course,” Boot said. Without so much as a farewell to Boot, Draco called over Scorpius, who had no idea what the adult men were talking about as he read his book and left the office. Draco was tense but was trying not to show it to Scorpius._

_“Malfoy!”_

_Draco stopped and turned, a hand on Scorpius’s shoulder to keep him close in all the hustle and bustle. Harry Potter, one of the last people Draco wanted to see was approaching him._

_“What can I do for you, Potter?” Draco asked._

_“Potter?! Harry Potter!?” Scorpius asked gleefully._

_“This is my son, Scorpius,” Draco reluctantly introduced._

_“A pleasure to meet you, young man,” Potter said, and Draco was grateful for Potter’s kindness, even if it was forced. Scorpius was amazed to even be speaking to Harry Potter that he found himself dumbfounded and unable to muster a reply. “I wanted to ask you if you wouldn’t mind coming to my office in the near future in regard to Gregory Goyle.”_

_“I’m afraid my day is full. My wife is about to get out of her meeting and—”_

_“That’s right. Hermione mentioned Valeria was on that committee…What’s it called...? Ministry Committee for the Improvement of Wizarding Relations?” Harry said._

_“Tedious title,” Draco muttered under his breath without thinking. Harry laughed a little._

_“Yes, well. Leave it to her to get wordy with that sort of thing,” Harry said. “About Goyle, I didn’t mean today.”_

_“Am I being accused?”_

_“No, not at all. There’s just been suspicious activity and we want to explore all possibilities. That’s it,” Harry said, choosing his words carefully._

_“I have not seen nor spoken to Goyle in years, Potter. I assure you that I haven’t the slightest clue where he is or what he’s doing,” Draco insisted._

_“It’s really just a formality—”_

_“If you’d like to summon me, you know where to send an owl. Good day to you, Potter,” Draco said, turning and directing his son to follow him. He shoved his hand in a pocket of his robes as he made his exit, feeling the letter from Odessa received earlier that day that he was going to give Valeria. He imagined it was much the same as the others, begging them to visit so she could see Scorpius again._

Valeria sat the summer before Scorpius’s fourth year of school in a high-backed chair at the same table in the same conference room that she had once each month for years. Granger was heading up a discussion for another charity event, which were always much duller than Valeria hoped. Hermione was not the best event planner, so Valeria had reluctantly volunteered a few years ago to take that responsibility for the social events the committee planned, though she regretted it due to often being shut down by budget constraints and the Ministry finding it _“not keeping with the mission of impartiality”_ should Valeria donate the funds herself.

Lucius and Narcissa were not remotely happy with Valeria’s presence on the committee, but that never bothered her. Lucius was growing more paranoid each year, insisting that both the new Ministry and his remaining comrades were out to get him, so Valeria took anything he said with heaping piles of salt. Her only regret was feeling as though she was coming between Lucius and Draco mending their tense relationship or preventing Scorpius from developing a positive relationship with his grandparents, who admittedly adored him. But Draco was insistent and as they were his parents, she deferred to his judgement when it came to them.

For their part, the committee was dull at worst and downright laughable at best. Her presence on it was a wise choice, giving her the ability to begin mending her reputation in the wizarding world, but she hardly saw the point. The rumors of Voldemort’s followers enacting trouble again, sporadically over the years, had done little to improve relations and the committee’s efforts seemed more like a formality than anything else. Valeria herself was the only pureblooded witch or wizard on the committee who had been on or close to the Dark Lord’s cause. The rest were half-bloods, muggleborns and other purebloods who had been firmly on the winning side. The tedious committee discussions often gave Valeria and Draco a laugh when they discussed them in private.

She imagined today would be the same. There was a rather passionate debate about having green décor, as the color could be mistaken for being associated with the Dark Lord for reasons Valeria had tuned out. Draco would get a kick out of that. But the door opened and jarred her from her daydream.

“Sorry, we still have this room booked for another hour,” Hermione said.

“I’m sorry, Minister, it’s just I have an urgent letter for a Mrs. Valeria Malfoy,” the young intruder said. Valeria stood, surprised.

“That’s me,” she said. The young man handed her the letter and made haste away.

“Let’s take a ten-minute break, seems as good of time as any,” Hermione announced. The committee members mulled about, chatting or going to the restroom. Valeria sat in her seat and tore open the letter.

_Dear Mrs. Valeria Malfoy,_

_We regret to inform you of the passing of your mother, Odessa Winters._

“Valeria…” Draco said when his wife stepped out of the floo. A letter had been sent to Wales too. He embraced her before her second foot fell onto the stone floor. She had managed to maintain her composure when she excused herself from the committee session and all the way to the floo to get home, but as soon her face was buried in Draco’s shoulder, she lost all control, helpless at his touch. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” Draco continued, swaying her gently, petting the back of her head.

It was done. The last of the Winters were gone, save for her.

“T—There’s a lot t—to do,” Valeria managed to stutter out. Draco took her face in his hands as he had done hundreds of times before.

“I’ll handle all the arrangements. Don’t even think about that right now,” he whispered.

“What’s wrong?”

Neither Draco nor Valeria had heard Scorpius come into the entrance hall of the small castle, the latter’s face was pale with dread and worry. Draco outstretched his free hand, gesturing his son over.

“Your grandmother…” Draco whispered, and Scorpius knew. He didn’t need to ask. Draco and Scorpius surrounded Valeria in a loving, familial manner of comfort and protection. Scorpius felt helpless at his mother’s tears, inconsolable, and he too wept some, remembering how Odessa would dote on him endlessly.

 _Scorpius,_

_You haven’t written me in a week, what’s up?_

_James is grounded again. He put Lily on a broom and told her to go full speed and she got a nasty scrape when she fell off. Dad’s been on my case about my Potions marks last year and I told him I had you to help me next year. He suggested Rose, but I told him that you’re better at it than her and Rose isn’t even in our house. It’s going to be a lot easier that way. He’s been acting all weird. He blames work, but I don’t know what his problem with your parents is other than stuff that happened like twenty years ago._

_The whole family is going to be over for dinner tomorrow and it’s going to be awful. Please write soon so I have something to look forward to._

_-Albus Potter_

_Albus,_

_Sorry._

_My grandmother, my mother’s mother, died and it’s been a mess. My father’s been managing everything, since she lived in Estonia and it’s a pain in the ass to move bodies between countries. I guess some of the things around her death were weird, but my father won’t tell me much. I don’t know if he’s told my mother yet. I’ve been trying to help my mother, but she’s…not like herself. I’ve never seen her like this. I’m probably being sent to stay with my grandparents for a bit while my parents go sort things out in Estonia, which isn’t exactly how I wanted to spend my summer holidays, even if it won’t be the whole time, but father can’t be argued with right now._

_I’m sorry about your dad. What’s going on with his work? Sorry about your family too. That sounds really overwhelming with how big the Weasley side is._

_-Scorpius H. Malfoy_

“Something the matter, Albus?” Ginny asked as Albus came into the kitchen with Scorpius’s letter in hand.

“I wanted to ask something,” Albus said gently, clutching the letter in hand. His words surprised his parents as Albus had been avoiding them, in the way that teenagers often do with their parents. Albus was starting to feel out of place in the Potter house. He missed school; He missed his Slytherin friends. His parents always seemed more interested in James’s and Lily’s tales of all the goings on in the Gryffindor common room and amongst Gryffindor peers. Albus was growing jealous of James who seemed to wear the popularity that came with the Potter name with ease, perhaps even pride. But Albus hated being in the shadow of a legacy he knew he would never live up to.

“Anything,” Harry said, trying to conceal concern and demonstrate openness to whatever Albus had to say. Albus approached the table with his head hung a little, still nervous. But Albus remembered what Scorpius said first year after the latter had told off James for teasing Albus about being sorted into Slytherin. Albus had thanked the boy he met on the train and Scorpius had only smiled and shrugged, saying _“My mother says that Slytherins look out for their own.”_

Now it was Albus’s turn to look out for Scorpius.

“Scorpius’s grandmother died and—” Albus begun, stunning Harry especially.

“Narcissa…?” Harry thought aloud, a faint flash of memory washing over his expression with mixed feelings. Albus knew the story, how the woman had lied to Voldemort’s face, saving Harry’s life and the wizarding world at large. Harry had insisted that she only did it for her son, which was true, but Albus wondered if that really mattered in the end. Few had lied to Voldemort’s face and even fewer had survived.

“No, it’s his mum’s mum,” Albus said. Albus saw his mother’s hands tense around the mug in her hands and his father sighed.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry said, though it sounded more of a platitude than genuine sympathy.

“And I was wondering…his parents are going to send him to his grandparents, the Malfoys, while they go handle things in Estonia and he doesn’t want to go. So, I thought, maybe, he could stay here for a few days until they get back…?” Albus said. His parents looked at him as though he had just announced that he proved the existence of Nargles.

“Why isn’t he traveling with his parents?” Ginny asked, her tone had changed to one of slight sternness.

“He said that it’s really complicated and there was something weird about her death. He says so in his letter here,” Albus said, handing Scorpius’s letter to his father who read it over. “I know you don’t really like him, but he’s my friend—”

“We have nothing against Scorpius,” Harry defended.

“Yes, you do, even if it’s just because of his parents,” Albus said.

“Albus, you need to understand that a lot happened with us and his parents. It was very difficult and complicated and—” Ginny started.

“But that was decades ago and he’s not his parents!” Albus said. “He just doesn’t want to stay with his creepy grandparents at Malfoy Manor. That’s all. He needs his friends too and, you know what, so do I. I’ve been bored out of my mind all summer and I want to see at least one of my friends—”

“You’re close with Rose and she comes around all the time,” Harry said. 

“It’s not the same!” Albus said, growing exacerbated. “Dad, you always say that you wouldn’t have lasted without Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione, without your friends. How is this different?”

There comes a time, Harry had just learned then and there, in every parent’s life where one’s child says something undoubtedly wise to prove their parent wrong. Harry was both proud of Albus, but also remembered the pain of the decades past which threatened to cloud his judgement. He had wanted the hate to end, which was why he had defended Narcissa, Draco and Valeria at their trials all those years ago, but that even long after the dust had settled, ultimate forgiveness was a tall order.

“Mum and I need to talk it over,” Harry said.

“But—”

“No, ‘buts,’ Albus. We’ll talk it over and let you know. Alright?” Harry said. Albus, feeling slightly defeated, shuffled back off to his room. At least they would discuss it, but Albus knew that if James or Lily had asked for a friend to stay over, especially if that friend was struggling, his parents would have allowed it without batting an eye. It’s only because it was Albus himself, because it was Scorpius that his parents had even the slightest of hesitation and it angered Albus for both himself and on Scorpius’s behalves.

He looked around his room, the only one of the children’s bedrooms not decked out in Gryffindor colors or other house related items. On his bedside table was a framed photograph that Scorpius had given him of all the Slytherins in his year standing in a row before the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. It had started first year, and the annual pictures from the first three years were hung neatly on his wall. He looked up to the first-year photograph and remembered that day with mixed emotions.

_“Mind if I sit here for a bit?” Albus said after sliding open the train compartment door and finding one sole occupant. He had been trying to find an empty compartment, but his search had been fruitless. It seemed this was the best he could do._

_“Not at all,” the boy with the white blond hair said with a bashful smile, gesturing to the bench across from him. He held out his hand to Albus as the latter took his seat. “I’m Scorpius Malfoy.”_

_Albus knew that name, Malfoy, of course. Albus had spent the whole summer interrogating his parents about Hogwarts, not willing to trust James’s wild stories about what he claimed it was like. His father had told him that there might be some bullies, mentioning Draco Malfoy by name, but also a story about how the latter had once been transfigured into a ferret, which was amusing. Albus also knew who the Malfoys were and was a bit stunned to find one accidentally, but he saw no malice in Scorpius’s expression or demeanor._

_“Albus Potter,” Albus said with a smile, shaking Scorpius’s hand._

_“Albus Potter?!” Scorpius said, his dark green eyes widening with excitement. “I’ve read all about your father, he’s got to be the most interesting person in the world!”_

_Albus laughed bashfully. “He’s actually really boring as a dad.” Albus paused, wanting to change the subject. “Thanks for letting me sit here. I was sitting with my family and they can be really rowdy.”_

_“Yeah, I understand. I was sitting with some friends, sort of friends really, and I guess…I’m just not used to loud excitement, so it’s nice to get a break from it,” Scorpius said._

_“Are you not excited to go to Hogwarts?” Albus asked._

_“I am! I’ve mainly been stuck in Wales with my parents all my life,” Scorpius said with a laugh. “But it can be a lot. I don’t know. Sorry, I sound really stupid.”_

_“No, you don’t. I get it. I’m nervous too,” Albus said._

_“Why are you nervous? Your Harry Potter’s son! You’re going to have the whole school wrapped around your finger.”_

_“That would be my brother, James, at least if you believe everything he says. I’m nervous about the sorting…”_

_“Why? Where do you think you’ll go?”_

_“I don’t know. Whole family is in Gryffindor, so I guess that’s where I’d like to go, but I have a feeling I won’t really fit in there.”_

_“My father says the sorting hat’s never been wrong. My family, both sides, have been in Slytherin since the school started, so I figure that’s where I’ll go.”_

_“My brother says that’s where dark wizards go,” Albus said gently._

_“Not always,” Scorpius said, unoffended to Albus’s surprise. “Merlin was in Slytherin and he’s the greatest wizard that ever lived. My mother says Slytherin is about being resourceful and ambitious, wanting to make a name for yourself. My father says it’s about tradition and fraternity—”_

_“What does fraternity mean?”_

_“Basically, friendship,” Scorpius said._

_Albus had followed the Slytherins down to the dungeons after the sorting, all of his anxieties come true. He had lingered behind in the back of the group, surrounded by older students happily reunited with their friends. Even the first year Slytherins seemed to all know each other. The common room was nothing like he expected. He had spent years hearing about the grandeur of the Gryffindor common room, the warmth and comfort the atmosphere held. The Slytherin common room possessed a sort of dark elegance, even the plush sofas and armchairs seemed stiff to him._

_“Albus!”_

_Albus looked up to see Scorpius waving him over to the fireplace, holding a camera around some other first-year students recently sorted. They had sat together at the table after the sorting, but Albus hardly said a word as Scorpius tried to chat with him, but also talked with others he knew at the table. Even the blond boy who claimed not to have very many friends seemed popular enough already. Albus hesitantly walked over to the group, Scorpius flanked by a dark-haired boy with a snooty expression and a pretty brown skinned girl who already looked bored out of her mind, though not unfriendly._

_“My mother gave me this,” Scorpius said, holding up the camera. “Apparently it’s some sort of tradition to have the students in our year take a picture together at the start of term.”_

_“It’s lame,” the other boy said._

_“I know, but my father won’t let me hear the end of it if I don’t send a picture to my mother,” Scorpius said, a little embarrassed. “I’ll make sure you get a copy for your parents too, Albus.” Albus wasn’t sure how much his parents would appreciate it, though he did have some hope after his father’s reassurance on the platform. “Oh, sorry! Albus, this is Norman Harper—”_

_“Just Harper is fine,” Harper said, shaking Albus’s hand._

_“And this is Fiona Zabini. Guys, this is Albus Potter.”_

_“We know, Malfoy. A Potter in Slytherin. And my mum said that Hogwarts was quite dull…” Harper said._

_“Glad to have you here, Potter,” Fiona said, a nice small smile on her face. Albus felt a little comforted. “I’ll gather the others for the picture so we can get it over with. Come on, Harper.”_

_“Sorry, Harper’s a bit prickly. His parents are sort of friends with mine so I’ve hung out with him sometimes. Fiona’s nice though, but you need to get used to her dry sense of humor. She made me cry at a New Year’s party when we were eight and—” Scorpius rambled._

_“Do you all know each other?” Albus asked. Scorpius laughed._

_“You could ask the same about Gryffindor. They should just rename it Weasley House,” Scorpius said, meaning it to be an innocent jape, but it still hurt Albus a little to know he was the one outsider amongst his family. “And I barely know Harper or Fiona, we just would cross paths sometimes when my family actually left Wales once in a while.”_

_“Hurry up, Malfoy!” Harper called as the other first-years lined up in front of the fire, a disgruntled prefect tapping her foot before them, waiting to be handed the camera._

_“Right, come on, we’ll have you in the center!” Scorpius said excitedly._

Albus hadn’t realized it at the time, but Scorpius had been the kindest to him on that first, difficult day of school. He never mentioned it to his father, and his father never really asked about it. When Albus had never felt more alone, Scorpius waltzed right into his life with ease and graceful comradery, accepting him immediately. Albus was determined to do the same now.

“Come in!” Draco called out, sitting at his desk in his study and pinching the skin between his eyebrows as he tossed the documents he had been reading onto the desk. Scorpius entered with hesitation and Draco looked up, a bit surprised it had not been Valeria come to anxiously inquire about something in regard to her mother once again.

“Everything alright, Scorpius? It’s late.” Draco asked. Scorpius handed his father a letter he had received earlier that day. “I was wondering if I could…”

Scorpius lost the words as he watched his father read the letter. He felt lost and confused. His father had always been soft towards him, save for when he was made uncomfortable by someone else. Scorpius saw how tired his father was, how his face seemed to droop with stress and his brow furrowed upon reading the letter.

“You’re sure the Potters approved this?” Draco asked. Scorpius nodded.

“Albus says so, I don’t think he’s dumb enough to lie about that and then have me show up unexpectedly,” Scorpius said. Draco held back a snide remark about Albus being an intellectual improvement of Harry, possessing the wisdom now to know that this was no time for juvenile, schoolyard jokes.

“Your grandparents were looking forward to seeing you,” Draco said.

“I know, but I’ll see them at Christmas, right? I just think I’d like to be with my friend than with…especially grandfather,” Scorpius said, trying not to offend in his father’s sensitive state, but know that the relationship between Draco and Lucius could often get strained. Draco sighed.

“I understand, though I can’t say I’m too pleased about you going to the Potters. Does Potter still suspect you of influencing his son?” Draco asked gently.

“I don’t know, but it can’t be that bad if he’s given his permission to let me stay there,” Scorpius said.

“Fair point,” Draco admitted, reviewing Albus’s letter again. “I’ll talk to your mother about it tonight, if she’s still awake.”

“She is. She’s in the courtyard again,” Scorpius said.

Draco stood from his seat and cursed under his breath. “It’s gotten cold out. I’ll go fetch her. I’ll let you know our decision in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Scorpius said, surprised at how smooth his request had gone over, but his father had been so busy and distracted, perhaps this was the least of his worries. Draco gave his son a reassuring pat on the back before they parted ways, Draco for the courtyard and Scorpius to his upstairs bedroom.

“Valeria, it’s cold,” Draco said softly, seeing his wife’s figure before the enchanted lilac tree in the darkness. The warm summer breeze of earlier in the day had degraded into a chilly one upon nightfall, as it often did in the Welsh mountain valley where they lived.

“That’s what cloaks are for,” Valeria replied. Draco did not argue, but embraced her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. Before them was the simple headstone marking Konstantin’s final resting place. “They’re all gone. The great and noble Winters family, the legacy, wiped out in one generation.”

“You’re still here,” Draco said.

“I’m a Malfoy now, aren’t I?”

“You’re a Winters, through and through. You’ve beyond proven that decades ago. That’s the legacy you should be proud of. The only one that matters,” Draco said before pausing. “I always said we can change it back at any time if you like. I’ll start the paperwork as soon as we return.” 

“Your father would just _love_ that.”

“That’s all the same to me,” Draco said. “Speaking of angering my father…”

“Oh, what now?”

“Scorpius has been invited to stay with his friend, Albus, instead of my parents.”

“Albus Potter?”

“The same. I told him I’d discuss it with you first, but he wants to go with Albus.”

“What do you make of it?”

“Not sure. There’s a part of me that would almost prefer it, just to keep my father from filling Scorpius’s head with…I don’t want Scorpius to get confused,” Draco said.

“He knows right from wrong, Draco. We've done that part right in raising him at least.”

“I just…You know what I mean,” he said. Valeria nodded slowly.

“Never thought I’d see the day where you’d prefer your son to be around Harry Potter,” she said.

“I don’t believe I’m saying it now. So, should we allow it?”

Valeria inhaled. “Albus has been a good friend to him and you know how I feel about your parents.”

“I suppose it’s only for a few days. Maybe a week at most,” Draco said.

“I just remember how lonely we were. It doesn’t feel right to deny Scorpius the chance to be with his friends.”

“Right.”

“Are you sure this is the right house, Scorpius?” asked Draco as they approached a quaint, but sizable cottage home in the West Country. Valeria had mentioned it was near Arthur and Molly Weasley’s home, when the address had been sent over, that had made Draco roll his eyes a little.

“Looks like how Albus described it,” Scorpius said. Draco nodded and followed Scorpius to the front door. Each waited for the other to knock before Draco nodded to Scorpius to do it. The door swung open to reveal Harry Potter standing in the door. Scorpius felt his father stiffen at his side.

“Potter,” Draco greeted, his attempt at politeness falling a bit flat.

“Malfoy,” Potter said in a similar tone. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. I apologize for my wife’s absence. Things have been difficult for her and we thought it best—"

“I understand,” Harry said. “Good to see you, Scorpius, please come in. Is that all you brought?” Harry gestured to the small bag Scorpius was carrying. Scorpius laughed.

“Mother’s got it enchanted. She doesn’t let me pack light,” Scorpius said.

“Right. That sounds like her,” Harry said with a small smile and turned back to Draco. “You’re…uh…welcome to stay for a cup of tea before you set off. It’s a long journey, I imagine and—”

“I’m afraid I should be getting back, though I would appreciate it if I could have a word with you,” Draco said. Harry visibly tensed.

“Scorpius!” Albus explained shoving his way past his father to his friend. Scorpius was incredibly relieved Albus finally showed up to break the tension. “Dad, why didn’t you tell me they were here!?”

“Sorry, son. Slipped my mind,” Harry said.

“Come on, Scorpius, I’ll show you my room!” Albus said. Scorpius looked up to his dad.

“Behave yourself and write your mother every day,” Draco called out.

“Yes, father!” Scorpius called out, being dragged into the house by Albus. Harry cleared his throat.

“What can I do for you, then?” Harry asked. Draco and Harry hadn’t spoken man-to-man since the Battle of Hogwarts and Draco felt seventeen again in the simmering awkwardness, even after all these years.

“I appreciate your hospitality towards my son, I’m sure that it wasn’t entirely easy for you or your wife. Valeria and I trust he’s in good hands. However, I must ask that things of the past not be brought up in front of him. He can be rather sensitive, and I would prefer to avoid difficult conversations that are otherwise preventable whilst my family recovers from our loss,” Draco said as if it was a prepared speech, which it was.

“I wasn’t planning on bringing up anything—”

“All the same, I wanted to request it specifically,” Draco said.

“Right. That’s fine by us. Really, this is for Albus and I suppose it’s a good chance to get to know some of his…other friends,” Harry said.

“Naturally. I’ll be on my way. He knows how to reach us if anything should arise,” Draco said.

“I’m sure it will all be fine, Malfoy,” Harry said. With no more than a nod of acknowledgement, Draco turned. “Wait!” Harry stepped toward Draco. “Scorpius’s letter, I’m sorry for reading it, but Albus insisted when he asked if he could come over, it mentioned there was something odd about Odessa’s death. I know it’s not right of me to ask, but we’ve had some incidents reported and if there’s any way thing can be related, I need to know—”

“The officials did report some things that didn’t quite make sense, at least not to me, but it might be a matter of translation,” Draco reluctantly admitted.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did she pass?”

“I do mind. And it’s been officially ruled a suicide,” Draco said.

“I see. I’m sorry,” Harry paused. “If you do learn anything in Estonia, and you think it might be the work of dark magic, you know you’re required to report it.”

“I’m aware, Potter,” Draco said with his distinctive drawl. “Thank you again, for Scorpius.”

Draco turned and walked away without further acknowledgement. Though pleased to see Scorpius excited to see his friend, Draco felt a fair amount of unease about his choice and Potter’s words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos and for sticking with me here! Stay well, stay safe.


	4. Family Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mention of suicide.

_Scorpius was sneaking through the halls of the Winters estate in Wales late at night. He had a special arrangement with Tilly, the family house-elf, to grab food from the kitchen late at night when the craving struck. Age eleven and full of confidence, he believed his plan to be absolutely foolproof. Unbeknownst to him, Tilly had told his parents about the arrangement some time ago and they allowed it to stand, letting Scorpius believe he was a juvenile criminal mastermind._

_Spending most of his days in the little castle, Scorpius had plenty of time to wander the corridors and perfectly chart his path so as to most decrease his chances of being caught. He too had plenty of time discover the secrets that lay within those ancient halls, including a number of secret passages hidden within the stone walls. He was meandering through one of the old passages, hands against the walls to keep his footing sure in the darkness, when he came upon the back of portrait which hung in the old parlor room._

_He heard music, talking and laughing from within the parlor room and decided, with all the childish confidence of a boy his age, to get a one-up on his parents and spy on them. He slid his palm on the back of the portrait, looking for the little slider that would allow him to see through the painted figure’s eyes and slowly moved it, squinting as his eyes adjusted to sudden intrusion of firelight._

_“You’ve lost your touch, old man,” Valeria said._

_“It’s the wine!” Draco said. “I think that stuff is higher proof than the bottle says.”_

_“It’ll certainly feel that way after three glasses, Draco. Come on, try again. Take my waist,” Valeria said. Draco obeyed and with a flick of his wand, the music started from the beginning. Scorpius watched with a raised brow, impressed with his mother’s elegant skill, even his father wasn’t half-bad. But stranger to him was that he had seldom seen his parents like this. He knew them to be private, though not prudish. Loving, but never so relaxed and overt in how they expressed it. Scorpius was a bit mesmerized by who these people were in private, but it all, quite literally, came crashing down as Draco attempted to lift his wife and lost his footing, sending both of them to the floor with a thud, Draco grunted as she fell directly on top of him._

_“Valeria, I’m sorry are you alright?” Draco asked. Valeria’s shoulders were shaking as moved to sit on the floor and Draco magicked the music to a stop. In the silence, Scorpius was concerned to hear a sobbing sound escape his mother, but Draco lifted her face up and Scorpius could clearly see his mother’s smile. She was laughing._

_“Don’t scare me like that,” Draco said, trying not to laugh, but failing to contain himself._

_“I’m sorry, but that was a spectacular fall,” she said._

_“Tell that to my ribs. I think I’m bruising already,” he said._

_She rolled her eyes. “You always were the most dramatic man I’ve ever met.”_

_“Like you’re one to talk."_

_“Is that so? You remember that business with the Hippogriff?” Valeria said. Valeria held her arm, feigning an injury. “Oh, Pansy, I’m so terribly injured. Pomfrey said she’d have to amputate it if I wasn’t so fit and tough. Be careful while you hold me, Pansy, it’s still sore. Pansy, I still have nightmares of that beast—” Valeria continued in a mocking drawl._

_“You know I did it to get your attention right?” Draco said._

_“I’m not shocked, though I think you also loved the other attention once that plan failed.”_

_“It’s possible. Though something must have worked because I have your attention now.”_

_“I think it was a bit more complicated.”_

_“You still stuck around.”_

_“Not only are you the most dramatic, but have I ever told you you’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met?”_

_“You remind me often enough,” he said with a smirk. “And I have a theory that you always sort of liked that about me.”_

_“There it is again.”_

_“It’s quite bold of you to accuse me of arrogance, Miss Perfect,” Draco said. “Oh, Draco, I simply cannot go to class until I’ve covered every blemish on my face. Oh, Daphne, I’m afraid I cannot leave this room as my robe has a wrinkle in it. No, Draco, I will not get on that broom and risk the wind blowing a single hair on my head out of place.” Draco continued in a mimicking voice._

_“You’re just jealous because I carry arrogance better,” Valeria teased in return, giving him a light smack on the arm._

_“Be careful, that’s where that Hippogriff got me and it’s still sore,” Draco said._

_“You’re stalling. Come on, up we go. Let’s try again. I still remember the entire Yule Ball routine,” Valeria said._

_“Or we can take this upstairs,” Draco said. Scorpius made an odd face, having no idea what his father was talking about, surely the parlor had more room for dancing._

_Valeria raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Or…we don’t have to.”_

_“Valeria Winters, you are an evil, evil woman,” Draco said with a small laugh, drawing himself closer to his wife. “What if Scorpius were to…you know…”_

_“His room is at the top of the southwest tower, he won’t know a thing,” Valeria said._

_“You are downright dastardly,” Draco said, leaning over to kiss his wife deeply. Scorpius slammed the slider shut and nearly tripped over himself as he darted away from the back of the portrait and through the secret passage, trying to get as far away as possible. He could feel his face grow pink with disgust and embarrassment. Scorpius avoided the parlor for several months after that._

Scorpius knew enough about his parents now to know they were odd, but it was never so starkly clear how different his family was than during his stay with the Potters. Most notably, the Potters were _loud_. James was always running around, up to something and even Lily was constantly gabbing. Fortunately, Albus didn’t seem to appreciate the rowdiness either and the two boys were content to keep to themselves, playing games, talking about school and distracting Scorpius from the loss of his grandmother and the grief that currently permeated his home. However, family dinners were a must-attend event, as they were in the Malfoy home, but were louder and more hectic. Scorpius had been taught proper dinner etiquette, though not to the extent his mother had been, but the Potters’ way was jarringly different.

“Thank you, Mrs. Potter,” Scorpius said as Ginny refilled his water glass as they waited patiently for the arrival of the Granger-Weasleys.

“You don’t have to say that every time she refills it, Malfoy,” James said.

“He’s just being polite, James,” Harry said.

“You could stand to learn some manners, James,” Ginny said. Ginny had softened on Scorpius over the days, seeing how happy Albus was to have a close friend around and how polite Scorpius was.

“Do you say that when your mum does it?” James asked.

Scorpius laughed a little. “No, my mother doesn’t do it. The uh, the house elf, Tilly, does. I do thank her though, yes.”

“Why haven’t we got a house elf? That sounds convenient,” James said.

“We do, but he works at Hogwarts and checks up on the London house,” Harry said. “Your aunt would have my head and you’d never do your chores if we had one.”

“Isn’t that the bloody point?” James asked.

“Language, James,” Ginny scolded.

“Hey, maybe sometime after this I can go to your house! You’re always talking about how cool it is—” Albus said.

“It’s not that cool. It’s actually really boring,” Scorpius said with a laugh.

“But you live in a _castle_ , Scorpius. A castle!” Albus said.

“You live in a castle? Like Hogwarts?” Lily asked.

“No, not like Hogwarts. It’s older and smaller. More like a fortress,” Scorpius said.

“And it’s in a lake and it’s got all these secret passages and rooms and stuff. Right, Scorpius?” Albus said.

“Yeah, it does. But after living there my whole life there’s not much else to discover. Malfoy Manor is loads bigger and it’s got miles and miles of garden paths and stuff, but my parents wanted to live in my mother’s family home instead,” Scorpius said.

“Can’t say I blame them…” James muttered under his breath.

“Watch it, James,” Harry said. Scorpius chose not to react to the comment. Before the awkwardness could set it in fully, the front door burst open.

“Hello, Potters! Sorry we’re late, it’s all my fault just ask Hermione,” Ron called out as the Granger-Weasleys entered the dining area. Everyone rose from their chairs, and Scorpius followed suit out of politeness. Lily ran to Ron and embraced him and then to her cousin Hugo.

“My aunt and uncle,” Albus said, standing next to Scorpius.

“Yeah, I figured,” Scorpius joked.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Slytherin and the only good one I might add,” Ron said to Albus after all the others had greeted each other. “Have you turned that place around yet, Albus—”

“Ronald,” Hermione said quickly under her breath, jabbing Ron a little with her elbow. Ron’s gaze then landed on the blond boy, lost in a crowd of red and black hair.

“Scorpius Malfoy? Well, uh…that’s a surprise…” Ron said, looking up to Harry.

“It’s a long story,” Harry said.

“You remember my _best friend_ , Scorpius, don’t you, Uncle Ron?” Albus said, his chest a little puffed out.

“Yeah, I remember hearing something about that. Not exactly expected, sorry. I thought your dad had traveled through time to come here; The resemblance is uncanny. Pleasure to meet you for real, Scorpius,” Ron said, stretching out his hand. Scorpius shook it.

“You as well, sir,” Scorpius said with a polite nod.

“Hey, Harry, you reckon Malfoy would get a kick out of me shaking hands with his son after we met him on the train first year?” Ron said, perhaps trying to crack a joke to break any remaining tension.

“Ron!” Hermione hissed again, but to her surprise, Scorpius laughed.

“My mother likes to tell me that story, even though my father hates it when she does,” Scorpius said.

“Good on your mum, then,” Ron said. Scorpius awkwardly laughed again. Hermione approached Scorpius as Ron moved on.

“How is your mum doing?” she asked.

“She’s managing, thank you, Minister,” Scorpius said, averting his gaze.

“I’m not the Minister when I’m not working,” Hermione said kindly.

“Scorpius.”

Scorpius turned as Hermione went to talk to Harry and Ginny to see Rose looking at him with sympathy. Scorpius didn’t like being pitied, especially by so many people he barely knew, but he softened towards Rose and Albus. In Rose’s case, he tried to stifle a blush when he saw her for a reason he could not explain. He smelled cherry blossoms in her hair when she hugged him, though it was awkward; somewhere between a friendly embrace and something else Scorpius could not place.

“Rosie’s got a boyfriend!” James sang in mockery, and Rose flung herself off Scorpius, flushing red.

“She better not,” Ron said.

“Ronald!” Hermione scolded for a third time, rolling her eyes.

“No, I mean she’s too young for a _boyfriend_ ,” Ron said.

“We’re _friends_ , James!” Rose said, Scorpius eyed Albus, silently pleading with him to make this stop.

“I didn’t know that,” Ron said.

“I told you that, dad!” Rose said, turning pinker.

“Yeah, Scorpius was a lifesaver for both of us in Potions last year. He’s top of our year in Potions—” Albus said, trying to change the subject which Scorpius was grateful for.

“And Charms,” Scorpius said with a sneaky little smirk.

“Only because he’s Farley’s favorite. She favors all the Slytherins…” Rose complained.

“Sounds familiar,” Harry muttered with a laugh.

“Maybe if you were Scorpius’s girlfriend she’d favor you too,” James said.

“Shut up, James!” Rose said, red from anger rather than embarrassment now.

“And Albus was getting cozy with Fiona Zabini in Transfiguration,” James said, relentless and inciting Albus’s ire.

“That’s big talk coming from you after getting caught snogging Rebecca Wood!” Albus said, getting in James’s face.

“You promised not to tell!” James said, tone suddenly changed from jovial to angry. “We’ll take this outside and settle it over Quidditch.”

“Fine! Scorpius, you brought your broom, right?” Albus asked.

“Yeah, I did, but—”

“Great. Slytherin versus Gryffindor, Rose can be on James’s team. You’re gonna regret it, James. Scorpius is really good and he’s absolutely going to make the team this year—”

“Enough!” Ginny shouted. “No Quidditch until _after_ dinner. Everyone sit down, now.”

The multiple households obeyed without any argument, though James ate ferociously, trying to finish dinner as quickly as possible. Scorpius went through the meal eating slowly, rather normally, as he did, but Albus seemed to be going particularly slow to taunt James. Over the course of dinner, it struck Scorpius just how different his parents were from the others. They were far more affectionate than his own, though not inappropriate. Scorpius’s parents told him how the Potters’ wedding was the news of the year in all the gossip columns, but they were vague about their own wedding. They just said that they married young during the war, but now, seeing the difference and being kept in the dark made him wonder again.

The sound of an alarm, or what Scorpius believed to be an alarm, jarred him from his thoughts and he clumsily dropped his fork on his plate with a clatter. He looked around and his gaze landed on Hermione holding a little metal box in her hand.

“Sorry, it’s just my mum. I’ll call her back later,” Hermione said. No one else at the table seemed bothered, but Scorpius was staring, wide eyed.

“It’s just a phone, Scorpius,” Albus said. “Have you never seen a phone before?”

Scorpius vaguely remembered learning about phones in Muggle Studies, and seeing pictures in the textbook, but he had never seen, let alone heard, one in person. “Uh…no, not really.”

The other kids laughed, even some of the adults chuckled a little bit.

“I’m with you, Malfoy. That thing freaks me out too and she keeps it in her pockets all the time. It does all kind of weird shi—” Ron said, catching himself before cursing.

“She uses it to talk to muggles, like her parents,” Albus said.

“It even has these word bubbles, like a typewriter but it’s trapped in the glass. Sort of like sending an owl. She says the messages float through the air and the other person can see it on their phone too. The whole thing makes no bloody sense—” Ron rambled, and Scorpius did his best to keep up, but messages in air that you can’t see was something he found borderline disturbing. Were muggle messages buzzing about his head all the time?

“My grandpa always insists on fiddling with it whenever we go over there. It’s so embarrassing,” Rose said, leaning over to whisper to Scorpius.

“I’ve told her we should just buy her parents an owl, but she won’t listen to my brilliant ideas,” Ron said.

“Yes, their neighbors would absolutely love letter carrying owls flying in and out of their neighborhood, what a brilliant plan,” Hermione said. Harry especially seemed to find that funny. The idea sounded reasonable to Scorpius.

James practically leapt from his seat once dinner was over and the adults granted their permission to blow off steam outside over a game of Quidditch, which Hermione insisted was to be played only in good fun. Ron and Hermione departed before the match began, leaving their children in the care of the Potters to take a preplanned weekend getaway together.

“James is going to get his ass handed to him,” Albus said excitedly as he and Scorpius put on outdoor clothes to get ready for the match.

“I don’t know, he’s already on the Gryffindor team and I haven’t played a real, proper game yet. And Rose is pretty good too, you’ve said.” Scorpius said.

“Pfft, you’re the best flyer in our house, at least of the younger ones,” Albus said.

“This is all just for fun, right?” Scorpius asked.

“Of course, it’s not! This is about honor, Scorpius. We do this the Slytherin way!” Albus declared.

James explained the rules out back and Harry was supposed to watch over them, but was still inside, glancing out once in a while from the window to make sure no one died. The rules had to be adjusted for a smaller group of players, naturally. Lily and Hugo came out in Quidditch gear that was much too big for them and joined Rose and James on the other side.

“This is two-on-two, go back inside!” Albus said.

“You said yourself that Malfoy is really good. Surely letting us have them on our team would level out the pitch. Unless you’re scared of a couple of little kids, Malfoy,” James said.

“From what I’ve seen of your playing at school, seems like you could use the help, Potter,” Scorpius said with a smirk, competitive anger flaring up in James’s eyes once more. Harry heard the tone with which Scorpius said his surname and was surprised with how the young Malfoy sounded just like his father. 

“Enough trash talking. Are we doing this or not?” Rose insisted impatiently.

The game started normally enough, and Scorpius was ready for whatever came his way. His father had taught him well and practicing together were some of the best times Scorpius and Draco had together. The match however quickly dissolved on the Gryffindor side, James easily frustrated with Lily and Hugo’s lack of skill. He constantly changed their positions, especially after they let Scorpius score too many points, unable to block him.

“I can’t believe mum made me let you play!” James called out as he flew by Scorpius, garnering indignant protests from both the youngest players. Even Rose was getting frustrated and Scorpius called out to Albus when he saw her chasing after the little Golden Snitch.

Scorpius got there first and used a move his father had told him might come in handy if he were to ever play real matches. Scorpius swerved and stuck his foot out, balancing precariously as he maintained control of his broom with an iron grip. He kicked the back of Rose’s broom just enough to steer her a little off course, allowing Albus just enough time catch the snitch and win the unofficial game for Slytherin.

Scorpius and Albus were beaming and celebrating loudly once they were safe on the ground, but Rose was stomping over to them while James was childishly fuming.

“That was a Blagging foul! You can’t touch my broom!” Rose said.

“Blagging is when a player grabs a broom to slow it down. The rules say nothing against a little nudge,” Scorpius said with a shrug.

“I’d have figured you of all people would have read the rulebook cover to cover, Rose,” Albus said.

“That’s a technicality and it’s still not fair!” Rose said.

“Like you could win anyway, we had dozens of points on you already. Ending it was a mercy,” Albus gloated. Rose was searching for some choice words before she stomped back into the house, followed by James who shot the Slytherin boys a dirty look. Scorpius felt a little bad, seeing how angry it made Rose, but Albus gave him a firm slap on the back.

“Better get used to it, James! This’ll be your new reality once Scorpius and I make the team!” Albus called out before turning to Scorpius. “That was brilliant! Did you see James’s face? I bet I can ride this high all year. Where’d you learn that move?”

“My father taught me. Apparently, back in the day, Slytherins weren’t against bending the rules a little bit to win,” Scorpius said.

“Well, I agree,” Albus said.

Albus and Scorpius indeed rode the high of their win for the rest of the evening. Scorpius was far more relaxed in Albus’s room than he was with the rest of the Potter-Weasleys. They played Exploding Snap until Ginny scolded them that it was time for bed, but stayed up late joking and talking anyway, trying to keep it down. But Scorpius had trouble sleeping once the boys grew quiet and Albus drifted off to sleep. He sat upright in the small, but surprisingly comfortable, guest cot that had been set out for him when he remembered he had neglected to send his mother a daily letter to update her and soothe her anxieties. He fumbled for his writing supplies in the dark and, not wanting to wake Albus, snuck out of the room and tiptoed downstairs.

A dim light had been left on in the living room and so Scorpius sat near it to quickly scribe a letter to his mother.

“What are you doing up?”

Scorpius nearly jumped out of his skin to see Rose standing across the room with a book in hand.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.

“No, it’s fine. I’m, uh, I forgot to write to my mother today. My father will kill me if I don’t,” Scorpius said, half-joking. “What about you?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Lily tosses and turns and all the time and can’t stand having the lights on, but I like to read before I go to sleep,” Rose said.

“Yeah, I do too,” Scorpius said. Rose smiled softly and Scorpius sensed she was still somewhat bitter about the match as she sat down on the other end of the sofa they now shared. It was then, Scorpius realized, he had never been alone in a room with a girl. There was an awkward silence as Scorpius blew the ink on his parchment dry and placed the letter in an envelope.

“Oh my God,” Rose said, laughing, reaching onto the coffee table for a framed picture. “Look at this.”

Scorpius took it from her, blushing in the dim light as his fingers brushed hers and looked at the picture. “Is that…?”

“Professor Longbottom and my Aunt Ginny,” Rose said.

“He looks like such a…such a…"

“Nerd?” Rose said with a laugh to Scorpius’s agreement. “I mean, he still is.”

“Seems like he wears it better now,” Scorpius said. “When was this?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? Look at the background, it has to be the Yule Ball,” Rose said.

“Right. That makes sense.”

“I’m a little jealous. My mum always talks about how amazing it was.”

“I don’t think the Ministry is too keen on starting the Triwizard Tournament back up again anytime soon after…what happened.”

“I know, but still. I wish we could have something like that. I’d even learn how to dance if we had the chance…” Rose mused. Scorpius raised an eyebrow at her.

“You don’t know how to dance?”

She laughed. “I move better on the pitch than a dancefloor, I’m afraid.”

“Do you want me to show you how?” Scorpius asked, immediately regretting blurting out the question without thinking.

“ _You_ know how to dance?”

“Does that surprise you?”

“A bit, yeah.”

Scorpius laughed. “My parents are a bit traditional. My mother insisted I learn. I won’t make you if you don’t want—”

“You know what? Sure. Show me a few steps,” Rose said. Scorpius laughed, not thinking she was serious, but she gave him an impatient look. Mustering his courage, stifling his nerves, he stood and held out his hand.

“May I have a dance?” he asked. She cracked up.

“Don’t be weird about it,” she said.

“It’s a matter of tradition, Weasley,” he said. Nervously laughing, she put her hand in his and got to her feet. Scorpius realized he had never held hands with a girl.

“We won’t be able to play music…” she said.

“Don’t worry about it. Alright, so we hold right hands…Good. Now, um, your left hand on my shoulder. Right and…uh…is it alright if I put my other hand on your waist?” he asked, trying not to blush as his heart pounded.

“Uh…sure, yeah,” she said with a nod. Gently, Scorpius placed his hand lightly on Rose’s waist, but maintained a polite distance. He had been certain nothing would be more awkward than dancing with his mother when she taught him, but he was proven quite wrong now.

“Right, so I lead, you follow. If I step back, you step forward and just follow me. We’ll start slow,” Scorpius said. Rose nodded and he could hear her breathe as he began to move, stepping back and waiting for her to follow, then with the other foot, then to the side. And on it went for a few minutes, Rose apologizing after she stepped wrong, which was nearly every step, and Scorpius insisting she need not apologize.

“Aaaand turn…” Scorpius said, lifting his arm for her to spin under it, which made her laugh and smile.

“You’re getting the hang of it,” he assured. She smiled bashfully, looking down at her feet.

“It’s easier if you look at me,” Scorpius said.

“But how am I supposed to see what I’m doing?” Rose asked.

“You’re not. You’re supposed to feel it. You’re following me, remember?” he said.

“Fine, I’ll try.”

She did try. They looked each other in the eye, trying not to laugh in the mutual awkwardness passing between them, despite the fact they both were enjoying it. Scorpius was happy to see Rose relax, gain more confidence, as they carried on over the next few minutes. They were so distracted, that neither noticed the carpet catch on Rose’s foot underneath them and she tripped, stepping hard on Scorpius’s foot as she tried to catch herself. Scorpius let out an instinctive yell of pain, and she grabbed his arms, closer to him now than she had been while dancing.

“I’m so, so sorry. Are you alright? Oh, God, I told you I’d be terrible—”

“I think I’ll pull through,” Scorpius said, smiling as the pain began to subside.

“What’s going on!?”

The lights came on and both of the children froze turning to see Harry Potter, face almost white with fear. He softened when he saw them and quickly tucked his wand away and Rose practically flew from Scorpius, blushing just as red as he himself was.

“We…We were just talking…” Rose stuttered as she tried to defend them.

“Sir, really, it’s not what it—”

“Off to bed. It’s late,” Harry said with a sigh. Rose shuffled off, giving Harry a wide berth as she darted for the stairs, leaving her book behind. Scorpius went to follow, head hung, but Harry held his arm out to stop him.

“Can we talk for a second?” Harry asked. Scorpius swallowed and nodded, going back into the living room. “You’re lucky it was me and not her dad who found you. Sorry for the scare, I heard a yell and got…concerned.”

“Sir, it wasn’t what it looked like. She saw that picture of Mrs. Potter and Professor Longbottom at that ball and I offered to show her how to dance. I swear it was innocent and I did nothing…improper—” Scorpius said. To his surprise, Harry smiled a little and picked up the picture.

“My wife insists on keeping this out. She thinks it’s charming, but I’d prefer not to remember it. It was a spectacular disaster of an evening, for me at least,” he said with a little laugh. “You know, at the time, I was hoping your dad would make a fool of himself, considering how miserable I was that night, but your mother…your mother kept that from happening. I think they’re the only ones who went together that ended up together in the end, though I’m sure that brings complicated feelings up for them.”

“Sir?”

“The circumstances around their…marriage, I mean.”

“Circumstances, sir?”

Harry eyed Scorpius curiously. “Did they…have they not told you about…what happened?”

“I know they got married really young during the war and their parents had a hand in it, but I’m not sure what you mean, sir, I’m sorry,” Scorpius said. Harry felt bad at causing Scorpius confusion and even a tinge annoyed at himself for defying Draco’s most explicit wish of not mentioning the past.

“Never mind, sorry I’m just tired and rambling on,” Harry said.

“Sir, if there’s something they never told me, I—”

“I’m afraid that’s not my place to say, Scorpius,” Harry said, to the boy’s dismay. “About Rose, whatever is going on, it’s probably best to avoid being caught alone late at night going forward—”

“Nothing’s happening, sir, I promise!”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, I don’t need to know. Just take a word of wisdom. And I’ll be sure to keep this from her dad, at least for a few more years,” Harry said.

“Can I ask that you not tell my parents either?” Scorpius asked.

“Ah, yes. I’m sure they might…take issue with the matter of blood-status and all—”

“No, it’s not that, sir. They won’t care about that. It’s just…I’d like to avoid an awkward conversation, if you take my meaning…” Scorpius said blushing. Harry was a bit surprised to hear that the Malfoys wouldn’t care about Rose’s blood-status but laughed a little too at what Scorpius was implying.

“I’ll keep it between us,” Harry said. Scorpius thanked him profusely, not ready for the horrendous discomfort of having a conversation about girls with his father. “Best, uh, head up to bed.”

“Yes, sir,” Scorpius said, making for the stairs before Harry stopped him again.

“Does Albus still snore?” Harry asked.

“Sometimes,” Scorpius said with a laugh.

“So, uh, him and Fiona Zabini…?” Harry asked.

“I’m sworn to secrecy, sir,” Scorpius said with a shrug. Harry chuckled.

“Right, of course. G’night then.”

“It’s still bothering me,” Draco said as he and Valeria packed up their things after all the matters had been settled, bound for Wales to arrange a proper funeral for Odessa. “You really think your mother would take her own life?”

“She’s been unwell mentally for almost a decade, Draco. Who knows what was going through her head at this point,” Valeria said.

“I just can’t quite…I mean, poison? And they wouldn’t even tell us what the poison was—” Draco said.

“They said it was rare and it may have degraded beyond the point of examination, that’s not uncommon,” Valeria insisted.

“I know your feelings toward her were…complicated, but you have to admit that—”

“I don’t have to admit anything,” Valeria said, raising her voice slightly. “She was a mad old woman who never forgave me for turning against the cause. The only reason she ever wanted to see me was so she could see Scorpius and even then, she would never shut up about the damn scar on my face, as if I could forget it.”

“She was your mother, Val,” Draco said gently.

“And she failed at it. She failed both me and my brother and so I would really appreciate it if you just dropped it so we can get her buried and move on with our bloody lives,” Valeria said.

Draco knew better than to argue further. Valeria was too consumed by her own complex grief and resentments to see what he saw. Odessa Winters was enormously proud; Suicide did not seem like her. A death that garnered little attention, perhaps bringing undeserved shame upon her, was simply not something that woman would do, even if she was half-mad by now. He also had a suspicion that the magical officials in Estonia were hiding something. A rare, likely expensive, poison somehow found its way into Odessa’s hands and they hardly seemed to bat an eye. He had hoped Valeria, with her knowledge of poison and her social intuition, would notice it, but now was not the time for that.

Perhaps Valeria was right. If it wasn’t a suicide, who in the world would want to kill Odessa Winters? She had been living peacefully in the company of distant relatives far, far away from the chaos that had befallen the wizarding community on the British Isles. She was senile, but harmless. She had hardly been involved in the Dark Lord’s plots or even the overall cause after the latter took control. There was no motive for anyone. No reason he could come up as to why someone would want her dead.

But it still ate at him as they traveled back to Wales to drop off their belongings and then collect Scorpius from the Potters. He remembered the conversation with Potter and thought, maybe, if he could get Potter to listen to him then maybe the aurors could do more digging into the matter. Though getting through all the international hurdles might not be worth it in the end, especially when it was only a former Death Eater’s hunch that guided them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out this story and for the support! Stay well, stay safe.


	5. The Mysterious Death of Odessa Winters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the clumsy formatting! It was not having it with me today.

_“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Draco asked as they searched through the rows of headstones on May 3 rd, 2003. _

_“Why wouldn’t it be?” Valeria asked._

_“People might take it the wrong way if they see us there,” Draco said._

_“That’s why we’re here today and not yesterday,” she said. “If you’re uncomfortable, you can go home. I understand.”_

_“No, it’s fine.”_

_They continued to meander on the foggy spring morning and Draco was especially tense. He hated graveyards. He hated death. He hated being reminded of the fate he so narrowly avoided. They had spent the past few anniversaries of the Battle of Hogwarts at home and did not listen to the Minister’s Address in which the Minister would give a speech and read the names of those who had been lost. It was too painful. It made Valeria nauseous and for Draco’s part he would try to pretend it was a normal day but failed each time._

_After years of spending the anniversary in solitude, it was Valeria’s idea to come here. To attempt to pay some kind of respects to someone but knew that the actual anniversary date would have been too crowded, so she settled to venture to this cemetery the day after. Cemeteries, Draco thought, were supposed to be places of peace, of solemn grief, but to him it was far more emotionally fraught. There was something vulgar about the living walking above the dead and the hair on the back of his neck stood with each gust of a ghostly spring breeze. He hated that this was only their first stop._

_He stopped at his wife’s side when they had found what they were searching for and neither said a word._

****

**_REMUS J. LUPIN NYMHADORA TONKS-LUPIN_ **

**_LOVING FATHER & HUSBAND BELOVED DAUGHTER, WIFE & MOTHER_ **

**_10 MARCH 1960—2 MAY 1998 3 JANUARY 1973—2 MAY 1998_ **

****

_Draco took the flower basket from Valeria, filled with simple and tasteful bouquets of lilacs. Valeria took two out and placed one below each name._

_“Did you know her well?” Draco asked quietly. She never really told him the story beyond the bare facts. There wasn’t a need to. Enough had happened and there was no point in reopening old wounds for naught. Valeria shook her head._

_“Not really. Still feels like I should do something though,” Valeria said quietly, sadly. Draco didn’t say anything and Valeria did not have to ask Draco about his cousin that he never exchanged a single word with._

_“Hello.”_

_Jarred from their uncomfortable attempt at paying respects, the Malfoys turned, and Valeria nearly jumped out of her skin, believing Bellatrix Lestrange walked the earth again. She calmed upon seeing the little blue-haired boy holding the woman’s hand. Valeria knew enough people in the wizarding world to put together who stood before them without introduction. Draco’s unease morphed into clenching tension, expression full of disbelief._

_“Our apologies, ma’am. We’ll be on our way,” Valeria said, taking Draco’s arm._

_“I know who you are,” Andromeda Tonks said, stopping the Malfoys in their tracks. “You look like your mother, Draco.” Draco had always been told how much he resembled his father and was shocked to hear otherwise._

_Draco cleared his throat. “We don’t mean any offense…being here.”_

_“Did you know my daughter?” Andromeda asked._

_Valeria swallowed, unsure of what to say. “She helped me when she didn’t have to.”_

_“That sounds like her,” Andromeda said. An uncomfortable pause passed between them. “I heard about what you did.”_

_“We don’t need reminding,” Draco muttered. Valeria put her hand on his arm to stop him from saying anything else. She opened her mouth to speak, but Andromeda interrupted._

_“You’re the one who killed my sister,” Andromeda said quietly, presumably for the sake of the boy._

_“It’s possible,” Valeria admitted. The event had strained Valeria’s relationship with Narcissa. Even Draco’s feelings had been complex, though he placed no blame on his wife, nor did he mourn for his aunt._

_“Good,” Andromeda said._

_There was nothing else to say, or perhaps there was too much that should have been said. The Malfoys took their leave to let Andromeda and her grandson have some time alone. Valeria reconsidered their second stop, but the flowers had already been prepared and they already had a change of clothes. If Valeria did not go now, she never would._

_It was a muggle cemetery in a quiet town in the north of England. They kept their heads down as they meandered through the small graveyard, unsure if they had chosen their muggle ensembles well enough to not stick out. It took less time to find what they were looking for this time._

**_JANE ELEANOR MASTERS_ **

**_BELOVED DAUGHTER_ **

**_A WOMAN OF MANY TALENTS_ **

**_14 DECEMBER 1972—1997_**

****

_“It’s a bit odd. She was a witch and no one coming here would know,” Draco said, musing, a hint of sadness in his tone. Valeria placed the flower bundle under Jane’s name._

_“The ‘a woman of many talents’ bit must have been her parents doing,” Valeria surmised. She had heard years ago that somehow the Ministry managed to get Jane’s remains to her family, after months upon months of their daughter being missing. Though she did not die at the Battle of Hogwarts, Valeria was trying to let go of all of it; The still mysterious relationship between the muggleborn woman and her Death Eater brother, the torture she had been forced to inflict upon her brother’s love and the death of Jane that she had been forced to witness. No matter how much money she gave her family, no matter how long she stood at the grave in silence, the dread and guilt refused to leave her._

_“Excuse me.”_

_Just their luck. Interrupted once again. The Malfoys turned, an older couple, muggles by the looks of it stood there, surprised to see them and a bit wary._

_“Sorry. We were just going,” Valeria said, looking away and taking Draco’s arm._

_“Are you one of them?” the old woman asked, and the Malfoys stopped, Valeria slowly turned to face them. They had to be Jane’s parents._

_“We are.”_

_“So you knew her?” the father asked hopefully. “I don’t know if anyone from…your world has come to see her, only the money and that letter…Please, if you can tell us anything—”_

_“That’s not our place. I’m sure the officials of our world would be happy to—” Valeria started._

_“They only told she was murdered by ‘dark forces’ that were against people like her. Please, we don’t understand. We just want to know what happened to our daughter,” the mother insisted, coming closer. “You must know something, why else would you be here?”_

_Valeria felt the panic rise up again, visions in vivid details of Jane’s torture and murder. She was trembling and Draco stepped forward in response._

_“We’re only here to pay respects, I’m sorry,” Draco said._

_“What are your names? Were you her friends?” the mother was getting more desperate._

_“Valeria Malfoy…formerly Winters,” Valeria said quietly, feeling more cornered by the old couple._

_“Winters…That’s the name of that boy from that school,” the mother said, not caring what Draco's name was anymore._

_“That was my brother,” Valeria explained, caught between guilt of wanting to help these people but unable to bear the pain of doing so._

_“Was…?” the father asked._

_“He’s dead,” Valeria said blankly._

_“I’m sorry,” the father said._

_“It was a long time ago,” Valeria answered, stifling her grief._

_“I’m afraid we must be going. We’re sorry for your loss,” Draco intervened, putting a hand on Valeria’s back and urging her away. Jane’s parents walked after them, but the Malfoys picked up their pace and once out of sight managed to disapparate away. The rest of May 3 rd was miserable. _

Draco still hated graveyards several years later and this one was one of the creepiest he had ever been in. According to legends, the product of lost history, this was once a muggle graveyard, lost to the centuries and the stones long faded or broken away. Back when muggles and wizards lived together in relative harmony, the Winters had buried their dead here. Konstantin Winters was the only exception, by decree of his own will and testament. Once the Winters had broken ties with the muggle world, they worked hard to enchant the place, hiding evidence of their family plots from muggle eyes. Apparently, there were vast rumors amongst the long-gone muggle populace there that the place was haunted. Draco knew it was only magic, but he still had an uneasy feeling that ghosts still lingered here.

It was a simple funeral for Odessa Winters. There was no great procession, no long-winded speeches celebrating her life. Just a gathering of family and a few of her old friends from many years ago. Odessa had been gone so long, her reputation fallen so far, that the grand goodbye the woman once would have received was impossible. It was all the same to the Malfoys who, in the end, preferred to keep to themselves and not make a fuss. Valeria mingled in her mourning robes with the other attendees, many of whom she only vaguely knew, whilst Draco was primarily charged with keeping his parents in line. Narcissa and Scorpius mourned with the most earnest, the former being Odessa’s closest friend and Scorpius only knowing Odessa as his doting grandmother.

Draco took a moment to himself at the entrance of the cemetery whilst Scorpius stood with Valeria for comfort in front of the Winters’ mausoleum in which Odessa would eternally rest beside her husband. He thought for a moment about how even still his whole world was wrapped up neatly within those two people.

“Malfoy.”

Draco turned to see Harry standing there with his son, Albus, grave expressions on their faces and appropriately dressed for the gloomy occasion. Draco had been shocked days prior when Scorpius informed him that Albus Potter had offered to come support his friend at the funeral and permitted it for his son’s sake.

“Potter, Albus. Thank you for coming,” Draco greeted dryly.

“I’m sorry to stick around, but my wife insisted given…you know,” Potter said, a tinge of guilt in his voice. Draco glanced at his own parents for a moment.

“Quite alright. Albus, Scorpius is up front with his mother, if you’d like to see him,” Draco said.

“I wouldn’t want him to intrude,” Potter said.

“Not at all,” Draco said, nodding to Albus.

“Thanks, sir,” Albus said before making his way up front to Scorpius. Draco looked at Potter.

“Probably best to stay back here for now,” Draco said. Potter nodded in understanding, to Draco’s surprise.

“That was my plan,” Potter replied. Draco had a thought.

“Actually, this might be an opportune time to have a word, if you don’t mind,” Draco said.

“I’m not sure if it’d be appropriate at a funeral, Malfoy…” Potter said.

“I insist.”

“Alright then,” Harry said with a sigh. “What can I do for you?”

“About Odessa’s death. There were some things that have I’ve found strange,” Draco said. He continued to tell Potter the story and about his suspicions, admitting that it was little to go on, but insisting that there was something off about Odessa’s alleged suicide. Potter listened with an open ear.

“What does Valeria think? If memory serves, she knows poisons better than the both of us,” Potter said. “I mean no offense—”

“Not to disparage my wife, but I believe her emotions might be clouding her intuition. She just wants this to be done,” Draco said.

“Right. Malfoy, I have to admit that there isn’t much to go on here and the international part of it makes it murkier. I’m having trouble understanding who would go to all the trouble to do this and why,” Potter said.

Draco leaned in closer. “My father’s been saying, at first I thought he was just raving again, that he believes some of the former Death Eaters are up to things. Nothing concrete, but it’s made him quite paranoid…”

“But Odessa was never a Death Eater, she had almost no direct involvement in any of it. Why her?” Potter asked.

“That I can’t tell you,” Draco admitted.

“Look, if you’d like to send some copies of documents to my office at the Ministry, I can at least keep them on file. Beyond that, without hard evidence there’s not much else I can do.”

Draco was irked. Potter had told him to report anything suspicious and the Ministry was useless when he did exactly that. He kicked himself for expecting anything more.

“Thank you for your time. I should tend to my family,” Draco said, starting off.

“Wait, Malfoy, there’s one thing…”

“What now?”

“I really hate to do this now, but I’m not sure we’ll get a chance to speak about it. Scorpius, when he stayed with us—”

“I was told the visit was pleasant—”

“No, it was. It was fine, just listen, would you?” Potter said, old habits of interaction creeping up again before he caught himself. “The circumstances around your marriage came up at one point and—”

Draco’s demeanor turned dark. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing, Malfoy. I’m only bringing it up because…there were things he didn’t seem to know,” Potter said.

“I hardly see how that’s any of your business, Potter.”

“It’s not. I just wanted to forewarn you. I know that after the war ended your family still had friends in places and there were rumors that writers and historians might have been bribed to…clean up—”

“I hardly think now is the appropriate time to bring up unsubstantiated rumors. If you’ll excuse me, I would like to allow my wife to bury her mother in peace,” Draco insisted, his expression gone grave. Harry resisted the urge to press the issue.

“Dad!” Albus said, a little too loudly than was perhaps polite, as he trotted up to his father. “Can I spend the night at Scorpius’s?” Harry and Draco were equally taken aback by the sudden proposition.

“I think it might be best for the Malfoys to spend this time as a family…” Harry said.

“But his mum already said it was okay,” Albus argued. Draco glanced over at his wife, receiving condolences from Daphne and Blaise Zabini, doing all she could to keep composure.

“I’m not sure your mum would appreciate the change in plan,” Harry said, delicately dancing around Ginny’s deep mistrust of the Malfoys, Valeria in particular.

“But you told her that it was important to be there for our friends. That’s what I’m trying to do!” Albus said, growing aggravated with his father. Draco could sense something uncomfortable, a sort of emotional distance, pass between the elder and younger Potter, but averted his gaze. Harry considered, caught once again in a trap he himself had laid, his own wisdom coming back to bite him.

“If it’s okay with Mr. Malfoy…” Harry said, pinning the choice on Draco, perhaps hopeful he would decline the offer. Draco looked down at Albus’s sheepishly hopeful expression and was struck by how much Albus resembled his father, right down to the eyes. His dark, untidy hair was in stark contrast to Scorpius’s, whose blond hair was always neat at his mother’s loving insistence. It seemed an odd twist of the karmic knife that it was Potter’s son that Scorpius had become so close to. As a younger man, Draco had been contentedly resolved to spend his days living quietly with his wife and never encountering Harry Potter again. He surprised himself, that he still harbored some resentments from so long ago, but some things just wouldn’t die. Draco looked up at his family, catching Scorpius’s eyes as he looked back at them and Draco lost all heart to deny his son something so easy and so simple.

“If my wife has permitted it,” Draco said, choosing the middle ground, pinning it on his wife. Some habits too still remained. Albus was beaming and looked up his own father with a juvenile sort of snarky triumph.

“Thanks, sir!” Albus said.

“This is a funeral, Albus,” Harry scolded quietly and Albus did calm in remembrance of the occasion before joining Scorpius again.

“I should get on then. Let my wife know of the change in plans,” Harry said. Draco nodded in agreement, eager to have Potter gone.

“I’ll send an owl to coordinate returning Albus,” Draco said diplomatically.

“Your house is brilliant!” Albus said in Scorpius’s room after the latter had given him a rather lengthy tour, as his mother insisted it was only polite to do so. “You have your own bathroom?!”

“Yeah,” Scorpius said with a humble little laugh. “It’s not as cozy as your place, but—”

“Are you joking? I’d take this any day. My house is too cozy. I’ve got to share a bathroom with James and he’s disgusting!” Albus complained. Albus launched himself onto one of the armchairs in Scorpius’s room, which was the one his mother grew up in, repurposed for him. “That lake is amazing. It must be so cool to fly over it.”

“When my mother lets me,” Scorpius said, referring to his mother’s deep dislike of flying and anxiety at her son doing so. “She would never allow us to do it after dark and the sun’s going to set soon. Maybe tomorrow she’d let us—”

“Yes! That’d be absolutely brilliant. James is going to be so jealous! What do you want to get up to tonight?” Albus asked. Perhaps it wasn’t what an adult would need after burying a relative, but Albus’s energetic enthusiasm was exactly what Scorpius needed. He was incredibly grateful for the welcome distraction and it was starting to lift his spirits.

“We’ve got some time to kill before dinner. I’ve got a sort of private room, a study or lounge kind of thing, it used to be my mother’s when she was a kid. We could hang out there. This room is boring,” Scorpius said. Albus leapt up from the armchair, urging Scorpius to lead the way. Scorpius directed Albus down the narrow spiral staircase of the southwest tower to just one level below his top-floor bedroom. Inside the old wooden door was a small, but stately little lounge, lined with bookshelves with two small sofas facing opposite each other. A small wrought iron chandelier hung above them and several odds and ends were scattered on the tables and cabinets. Albus, being himself, nonchalantly poked around.

“Of course it’s lined with books. Rose would be so jealous,” Albus said. “Speaking of Rose…”

Scorpius flushed pink, trying to hide it. “What about her?”

“She’s been acting weird. She sent me a letter after you left asking if my dad had ‘mentioned anything’ about you and her. What’s that about?” Albus asked. Scorpius’s mouth went a little dry and he was afraid of making Albus upset with him for not telling him about his late-night indiscretion with Rose.

“It’s nothing. I was up late at your house one night and so was she and she…”

“Out with it, mate,” Albus insisted, raising a brow.

“She wanted to learn how to dance,” Scorpius admitted. Albus was silent in shock for a moment and then burst out laughing.

“She wanted to learn to _dance_?! And you showed her?! In my parents’ living room!?”

“Yeah, that’s the long and short of it. Your dad caught us, but nothing happened, and he just told me not to be caught up late at night with girls,” Scorpius said. This time it was Albus who flushed pink.

“Bloody hell, I’m sorry. He can be so embarrassing. Sorry he cornered you like that,” Albus said.

“It’s fine. My father would have been way sterner about it,” Scorpius said with a little laugh. "He was cryptic though. He talked about my parents, which was a bit weird…”

“Gross,” Albus said.

“Yeah, gross,” Scorpius said, not sure how much he agreed, but eager to change the subject. Albus was the one to do so after rummaging mindlessly through a little cabinet and yelling out. He brandished a dusty old bottle high in the air.

“Look at this!” he exclaimed. Scorpius took the bottle and was taken aback to read it.

“Mead? This is from the nineties. It must have been sitting in there all this time…”

“What’s it doing here?” Albus asked.

Scorpius shrugged. “No idea. It’s from that meadery my parents invested in, but this is older. It’s probably garbage by now.”

“Only one way to find out,” Albus said with a raised eyebrow.

“My father will kill me if I show up to dinner _drunk_. If I get _Harry Potter’s_ son drunk in his house!” Scorpius said.

“You really think _your_ dad cares what _my_ dad thinks?! Pfft. Who cares if they care and we won’t get drunk. We’ll just try it and then we can save a little bit for later if we want. I bet there’s a corkscrew in here somewhere…” Albus said, returning to the cabinet to rummage around some more. Scorpius indeed wondered why a bottle dated from 1995 was in his little lounge. He knew his grandfather drank like a fish and that his parents did privately indulge to a lesser extent, but this was just odd. He did once joke to Albus that such indulgences seemed to run in the family. “Aha!”

Albus held up a corkscrew in triumph and Scorpius was equally surprised that that was also there. Albus took the bottle from Scorpius gently.

“I guess if it’s here we might as well have a go,” Scorpius said as Albus struggled with getting the bottle open.

“If it’s in your room, it’s yours right? Finders keepers,” Albus said. “Fiona is going to think this is so funny when I tell her.”

“What’s up with you and Fiona?”

“Nothing serious,” Albus said with a shrug. “I like her though. She’s unlike any other girl I’ve ever met. She’s got a real dry sense of humor and…I don’t know, I like that. I know she comes off real serious, but she’s just easy going and relaxed. I don’t know how my dad feels about it though. He kept trying to give me a ‘talk’ after James blabbed about it and you left. It kinda feels nice, sticking one to him.”

“Your dad’s not that bad,” Scorpius said.

“Yeah, you don’t have to live with _Harry Potter_ ,” Albus said. “Look at me, I saved the wizarding world and a big, important auror and I’ve got this huge family. Don’t take my picture, though! Oh, and I’ve got two great kids, and the other one in Slytherin, don’t worry about him though!” Albus continued, in a mocking tone.

“Didn’t he give you a whole talk about how it’s fine to be in Slytherin?” Scorpius asked.

“Yeah, and the first thing he wrote me after I was sorted was if I asked hard enough to be in Gryffindor. I think he meant it as a joke, maybe, I don’t know. I think he thinks I asked to be in Slytherin to spite him,” Albus said, face dropping a little.

“Whatever the case, I’m glad you got put in Slytherin,” Scorpius said. Albus smield at his friend warmly.

“Me too,” he said. The cork came out of the bottle with a pop and Albus nearly dropped the bottle on the floor. He handed the bottle to Scorpius. “Moment of truth. It’s your house, you should go first.”

Scorpius wanted to argue but could tell Albus was insistent. He hesitantly took the bottle and sniffed it, recoiling at the awful smell, but not being remotely versed in alcohol, he could not tell whether or not it was supposed to smell so revolting. Mustering his courage, he put the bottle to his lips and took the smallest of swigs.

He immediately coughed at the burn. His mother had let him have a sip of wine at Christmas here and there, but whatever was in this bottle was nothing like that. It tasted only of vinegar with maybe a vaguely honey-like after taste. Scorpius’s immature pallete did not care. He only coughed and winced, trying to shake the taste from his tongue.

“That bad, huh?” Albus asked.

“It’s vile,” Scorpius said between coughs, eyes tearing up from just how terrible it was. Albus did not take Scorpius’s reaction as a warning and took a larger swig with the same reaction.

“Is it possible that it rotted?!” Albus asked.

“No idea!”

There was a knock at the door and Scorpius panicked, shoving the bottle and the rest of the evidence back in the cabinet, standing still and trying to appear innocent as the door swung open.

“It’s time for dinner, boys,” Draco said from the doorway. The stiff, intimidating man took in the scene and raised a brow. “Everything alright in here?”

“Yes. Just got…an ash flavored Bertie Bott’s bean,” Scorpius said through a cough, thinking on the flying. His father seemed satisfied.

“Right. Be down soon,” Draco said before closing the door.

“That was close!” Albus said. “I could use some water…”

Dinner was like every dinner at the Malfoy home. It was fairly quiet, but not uncomfortable and tended to by the house elf which Albus was particularly fascinated by. However, Scorpius noticed that his mother seemed distant and his father was tense. They didn’t seem to mind though that Albus made Scorpius laugh several times throughout.

“Are you looking forward to the coming school year, Albus?” Valeria asked. Scorpius could tell his mother was doing her best, but she had barely picked at her food. Several times Draco had tapped his finger beside her plate as if to urge her to eat without drawing attention to it.

“Yes, ma’am! We’re going out for the team this year and it’s going to be great!” Albus said.

“Hopefully not competing for the same position,” Draco said, an attempt at a joke that drew a look from his wife.

“Albus wants to be a Chaser like his mum,” Scorpius said. A faint smile crossed his father’s face.

“My dad tried to get me to go out for Seeker, but I refused,” Albus said proudly. “I want to be my own man, y’know.” Scorpius laughed a little at Albus’s overblown confidence and his attempts at sounding more grown up, but even Draco laughed sincerely.

“I can certainly understand and I for one commend you for it,” Draco said, drawing another look from his wife. “And how do you find Slytherin? I know there was a lot of pleasant surprise when you were sorted.”

“It wasn’t what I expected, but it’s great! It’s probably the most _interesting_ house,” Albus said.

“Yes, a lot of proud history there,” Valeria said politely.

“And I’ve got Scorpius there with me and I would not have it any other way. Besides, the rest of my family’s in Gryffindor. I’m glad I get to be the one that’s different,” Albus said. Judging by their expressions, Scorpius gathered that Albus’s answers seemed to please, if not outright amuse, his parents. Though, Scorpius was a little embarrassed about his parents interrogating his friend. He was relieved when they were dismissed from dinner and the boys retreated back up to Scorpius’s little private study, opting not to go for the ancient mead this time.

“So what now? Tell me, how does one spend the evening as a Malfoy,” Scorpius said, sprawled out on a sofa.

“Well, my father will go into his study, my mother might go to her workshop way down in the basements, but who knows,” Scorpius said.

“Sounds boring,” Albus said.

“Sorry, I don’t have friends over very often and—”

“Not you. Just both our parents in general. You’re not boring, Scorpius,” Albus said before pausing. “Didn’t you mention there’s a bunch of secret passages in here and stuff?”

“Yeah, but they’re not that interesting. I mainly use them to sneak food from the kitchen really late at night,” Scorpius said.

“Show me those,” Albus said with a shrug.

“While my parents are still up?”

“They won’t notice.”

Scorpius was feeling bold and wanted to impress his friend however he could, though he knew deep down that he didn’t have to. He grabbed a couple candles in their holders and had Albus follow him all the way to the bottom of the winding spiral staircase and down a few narrow corridors to a hall. Scorpius tapped five bricks in the correct order and the stone wall slid aside, revealing a small doorway. Albus was practically giddy with excitement over the reveal and Scorpius shushed him gently before they entered and it shut behind them, leaving only their candles for light in the pitch-black tunnels.

Scorpius explained which passage went to which part of the house. Some had stairs and some places of the castle could only be accessed via different passages, but this was the broadest one. They made way for the kitchen, hoping to grab some more dessert. Albus asked about the portrait backs at one area of the corridor and Scorpius quietly showed him how there was a sliding panel in the portrait’s eyes to look through. This demonstration revealed that they were peering into Draco’s study where both the elder Malfoys were present.

“I can’t believe you told Potter. I thought we agreed to drop this,” Valeria said.

“He asked me to report anything suspicious. I was only doing what he asked,” Draco said.

“You and I both know you wouldn’t do that unless you thought there was something to gain from it. What did you expect him to do? Run off to Estonia looking for rogue poisoners?”

“At least it’ll be on record. I’ll send him copies of all this in the morning,” Draco said before pulling a parchment from a large envelope. “The translation of the toxicology report arrived this morning.” Valeria reluctantly took it and looked it over for a while. “What do you make of it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t mean anything. This is only ingredients they found traces of, not how much, what it was in or what they combined into.”

“But the ingredients might tell us something—”

“They don’t. Poisons are dependent on _how_ the ingredients are brewed, not just what they are on their own. In fact, lots of poisons are deliberately crafted to look completely innocuous on toxicology reports so they purposely use common or otherwise harmless ingredients, when possible. And this report tells me nothing about what process they used to break down the poison into its parts, which is incredibly varied and complex, very easy to screw up.”

Draco tensed in his chair. “Perhaps if we could get a sample. They said there was some still in the cup and they saved it…”

“No, Draco. The more complex the poison, the harder it is to detect and study. The only thing that is guaranteed to properly break down a potion of any kind is Basilisk venom, since it’s so destructive. But that is so rare and so difficult to work with, you’re more likely to destroy the sample in the process. Not to mention, incredibly difficult to get a hold of.”

“There are…black markets…” Draco suggested gently.

“No!” Valeria said, tossing the parchment back on his desk. “Basilisk venom isn’t one of your dark trinkets to keep locked away in the basements. This is really dark work and I mean it. Being caught with it is practically asking to be sent to Azkaban without the Wizengamot blinking an eye.”

“I’m aware,” Draco said. “It’s just…some of the thing’s my father’s been saying about the other Death Eaters…maybe…”

“Your father is nearly as mad as my mother was,” Valeria said, rising from her chair. “Draco, I just buried the last family I have other than you and Scorpius. I’m tired. I just want to move on.”

“Right. I’m sorry,” Draco said. “You go on to bed. I still told Potter I’d send this stuff.”

“Suit yourself,” Valeria said before making her exit. Scorpius slid the little panel shut and looked at his friend.

“What was that?” Albus asked, once they were safely upstairs in Scorpius’s little study.

“I—I don’t know. My father mentioned there was something odd about my grandmother’s death, but I thought he meant with the international stuff. Not that she might have been murdered! He sounded like he thinks Death Eaters are behind it,” Scorpius said, mind reeling.

“Well, he would know right?” Albus asked. Scorpius shot him a pained looked. “I didn’t mean it like that! I mean that he might be able to see things other people wouldn’t, know things are off, y’know?”

“And my mother won’t listen…”

“I mean, she just lost her mum. She might not be thinking straight, and it sounds like my dad’s blowing it off too and he’s a bloody auror!” Albus said before pausing. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“Well, we have to do something.”

“What do you mean?” Scorpius asked.

“If there’s some secret Death Eater plot targeting your family, don’t you want to be certain? And if no one else would listen…Maybe we can ask your dad,” Albus said.

“He won’t tell me anything, let alone you. I think they keep me in the dark about a lot of things,” Scorpius said.

“Then we’ll have to find out about it ourselves,” Albus said.

“And how do you propose we do that? You heard my mother. We’d need a sample _and_ bloody basilisk venom and it might turn up nothing. My mother wouldn’t even try it and she’s a qualified Potion Master."

Albus thought for a moment. “This is going to sound crazy but hear me out.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Albus.”

“Just listen. I can probably get the address and contacts for the officials in Estonia from the copies your dad gives mine, then I can use one of my dad’s parchments with his letterhead on it to request the sample,” Albus began.

“That’s insane! Not to mention it’s a big bloody deal to forge an auror’s signature on anything! That also doesn’t solve the basilisk venom problem—”

“I have an idea for that too! My aunt and uncle said there’s still a dead basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets—”

“What!?”

“Listen! They used the fangs to help defeat Voldemort and they got in there without my dad’s help. My uncle tells the story all the time and my mum’s birthday is coming up. A couple shots of firewhiskey and he’ll definitely tell me how he did it!”

“And then what?”

“And then we get the fangs from there and then we can—”

“You still have to extract the venom. I can’t imagine how complicated that is to do, not to mention the process my mother talked about…”

“You’re the best at potions in our year—”

“I’m only a fourth year, Albus. There’s no way I could manage it…”

“You _can_. Scorpius listen, worse comes to worse, we fail or there’s nothing going on at all. But if not…if they went after your grandmother, then who’s next? If we’re the ones to uncover a plot, that your dad was the first one to pick upon and have proof, then maybe the rumors about your parents will stop,” Albus said.

That comment caught Scorpius’s attention. It was true that his parents kept a great deal from him, he knew, but he was not naïve. He heard the hushed comments from his peers in other houses. He knew what people thought of his Death Eater father and accomplice mother. He saw the mark, now a faint scar, on his father’s arm once. He knew too of his own grandfather’s darkness, but always defended how his grandmother had lied to Voldemort’s face, saving Harry Potter’s life, and made it out alive herself.

As sympathetic as he was for Albus, as much as he understood not always meeting the expectations of one’s father, Scorpius admitted to himself how jealous he was of his friend. Being the son of the man who saved the world was far easier than being the son of a man who, at one point, tried to plunge it into darkness. He would have given anything to be the son of a hero, and so, he thought, perhaps instead he could be a hero himself.

“We can try…” Scorpius concluded.


	6. Loose Lips Sink Ships

_Draco treasured the moments on lazy weekend mornings when he and his wife took the time to talk alone in their room and simply be. Scorpius, aged eleven then, was at an age where he favored sleeping in or otherwise taking his time in the mornings rather than barging in and waking his parents, excited for the day ahead. But these mornings were not always for sweet nothings or quiet romance as the time was also, unfortunately, perfect for some of the harder discussion that sometimes arise in matters of parenting._

_Draco had always been skilled in appearing more confident, surer of himself, than he truly was. Parenting was no exception and perhaps it was the greatest challenge of all to put on airs like he knew what he was doing when in all actuality he was terrified and flying blind. He stared off at nothing that morning remembering from his youth how assured he had been of the course his life would take. When he was so young, he had never thought on having a child of his own to nurture and raise beyond brief and vague assumptions. To his mind, all he had to do was model his own father and all would fall into place._

_But as the tapestry that formed the chart for his life unraveled and frayed in his late adolescence, thread by bloody thread, so too did all the assurances of his childhood. Fatherhood had come unexpectedly to Draco, having stumbled his way through being a spouse since he was young, Scorpius’s arrival was a jolting rupture to his quiet life. Draco had an existential fear of failing in both roles at every turn, but sometimes, once in a great while, his son would look up at him, beaming with an expression that communicated just how happy the young boy was that Draco was his father. In those moment, fleeting as they were, Draco knew he had done at least something right somewhere along the line. He had once wanted to be like his own father in everything, looking to Lucius’s example when in doubt as a boy, but now he saw more of what he didn’t want to do. Even that was hardly a help as Scorpius developed an insatiable curiosity about the world in which he had been born._

_Scorpius loved to read about the wizarding world and its history, both distant and recent. Books led to questions. As the day approached in which his Hogwarts letter, his rite of passage finally his to hold soon, was set to arrive, Scorpius’s questions became greater in number and more specific in detail. For her part, Valeria had done well to tell the boy about her Hogwarts days in a whimsical manner. The funny little secrets, the enchanted castle, the mesmerizing landscapes. She told him of friendships, of walking the halls with laughter and how even she enjoyed watching Slytherin win Quidditch matches. Scorpius asked after what it had been like to attend Hogwarts with famous Harry Potter and Valeria, who had been on the periphery of Potter’s antics at best, simply told him it was “eventful.”_

_Draco gave his wife a half-hearted dirty look when she playfully warned their son to be nice to other students, lest he be transfigured into a ferret by a professor. Scorpius asked Draco about Hogwarts too and the latter was even more careful with what he shared than his wife was. The truth was, there were only certain parts of his education that he actually liked. Being sorted into Slytherin was a proud moment and he adored soaring through the air in Quidditch. The Yule Ball and watching the Triwiazard Tournament had been joyful in parts. But even unbeknownst to Draco in his boyhood, he had spent so much of those years stewing in bitter jealousy and resentment, lashing out and failing in his own antics. He kept his mind away from the darker years, the ones in which everything went wrong._

_He had begun at Hogwarts at the top of the world and now his own son, so similar and yet so different from himself, was set to begin in a much different world._

_Draco lifted up his left sleeve, he seldom looked at this part of his body beyond brief glances. He tried to hide what he was doing as his wife was sat behind him in bed fiddling with his hair that now reached just passed his shoulders. She’d twist it gently into a short, tight, distinguished looking braid each morning. She knew at least a dozen spells that could do the job in an instant, but both of them loved this little morning ritual. Her first attempts at doing it alone, years before Scorpius was born and when Draco’s hair was finally grown out enough, had been pitiful and humorously clumsy, but she was an expert now, yet she always took her time. Draco had scoffed when he saw the girls at school fiddling with each other’s hair, but now knew he should have envied them. Women and girls had the luxury of that kind of touch, how relaxing it was to have someone run their hands through strands of hair. He cherished it now._

_But as he looked down at the inside of his forearm, flexing and relaxing the muscles slowly, he could not quite relax. The imprint of the Dark Mark remained, faded and pink like a scar, but all Draco could see in his mind’s eye was the jet blank inkiness of it when it was in its prime. He felt the phantom pain of the burn even still. He should have considered himself lucky. Not many with the brand had turned against it and lived, but it still was not well with him._

_“It’s not going to go away,” Valeria whispered gently, a soft kind of sadness in her voice. “Not any more than mine.” He knew she referred to the scar on her face, the one his aunt had etched into her skin. It resembled the naturally healed, faded scars on his own chest from Potter’s curse in sixth year. Hers had faded too with time. She did up her face each day before leaving the room, and with the uncanny sort of perfection her ritual brought to her countenance, the scar resembled more of a crack in a marble statue than a grizzly souvenir of her suffering._

_“I know…Still can’t help but hope sometimes. Maybe by the time I’m dead it’ll be gone,” Draco mused, recalling how the Dark Mark had aged with him. Valeria brought her hand to his arm, covering his shame with her soft touch, squeezing his arm gently to stir him from his guilt. “Maybe we should send him to Durmstrang.”_

_Valeria sighed and took her hand from his arm. “We’ve been over this. He’s so excited about Hogwarts and he knows Pansy’s son and Daphne’s daughter already. It’d crush him if we sent him elsewhere.”_

_“I…I just don’t want anyone to think poorly of him, treat him differently, because of me,” Draco said. Valeria gently directed him to face her._

_“Because of us,” she corrected. They had had many uncomfortable discussions in little bursts over the years of where to place blame for the events that happened during the war. They always ended up at an impasse with Draco insisting that more rested on him than he perhaps deserved and her insisting that they were in it together from the start. “He’s smart. He’s friendly and just wants to have fun and make friends. He’ll be alright.”_

_“You believe in that completely? That he’ll be alright?” he asked, hoping that she did, but the way she said it made it sound like she was trying to equally convince herself. Draco never doubted Scorpius for a moment and if he were any other father, he’d have no fear. It was the others he worried over; teachers and students alike._

_“I believe in him,” Valeria replied._

The Malfoys were what one might describe as an independent family.

Although happy, they expressed it so differently, Scorpius had come to learn. The buzzing rambunctiousness of Albus’s home had made that quite plain, but Scorpius admitted that he preferred his own family’s way of things. He enjoyed the freedom of solitude, being able to go about his business without his parents or a hypothetical sibling bothering him. His parents had their hobbies in their respective studies and workshops, his father being an avid collector. He was more grateful for this quirk of his family’s now more than ever as he reread Albus’s letter.

 _Scorpius,_

_I managed to get my uncle loose enough at my mum’s early birthday party to tell me about the You-Know-What and how to get in. I’ll tell you more when I see you on the train._

_-Albus_

Scorpius carefully put it away, wishing Albus had told him more, but knowing it would have been unwise for him to do so just in case one of his parents managed to get a hold of the letter. Though they weren’t the type to invade his privacy, he could not help but feel a bit paranoid. Albus had done his end, or so it appeared, and Scorpius was running out of time to do his part. It wasn’t looking good. Scorpius had gone through every book in the Winters’ library and found nothing to help him learn more about extracting and using basilisk venom. He had half a mind to send a letter to his grandparents, knowing that his grandfather would indulge any whim of his and send him anything from the dark knowledge housed at Malfoy Manor without question. But that plan ran the risk of his parents discovering what he was up to and how he even knew about basilisk venom.

The library at Hogwarts was also a no-go. Scorpius doubted such knowledge was readily available as after the fall of Lord Voldemort knowledge of darker quality was cracked down upon. Professor Farley might have been willing to help, but that was risky too. The less people knew the better. His mother might have knowledge for him, but he knew she wouldn’t tell him without a thorough interrogation and there was no way he could pretend he just happened to want to learn about such things right after she and his father had a secret conversation about it. He was running out of options and more importantly, running out of time.

There were only a few avenues left. The little castle he called home housed only two places he was forbidden to enter. The first was a storage room deep in the bottom of the cellar, seldom visited, but magically protected. He had yet to figure out how to enter it or what his parents were keeping hidden from him in there, though he was aware of his father’s interest in dark artifacts bought surreptitiously. The second was a bedroom in one of the four towers that he knew was his uncle's old room, also magically locked. Unable to use magic outside of school, his only hope was that one of the winding, maze like, passages in the halls of the castle allowed him entry.

Tonight, was the perfect night to make an attempt. It was the ninth of August, his parents wedding anniversary. Oddly enough, his parents never threw anything resembling a celebration for the event. From what Scorpius could tell each year, they always behaved conflicted about the date, if they even acknowledged it in front of him at all. What they did do, without fail each year, was retreat into a parlor room requesting privacy and were up at all hours talking and indulging in some libations. Now was his chance.

He found the nearest passage entrance, a slightly off-color brick that he placed his hand upon so that the stone wall would part and allow him entrance. With a lantern taken from his room in hand, he entered the dark corridor and made for the direction of the seldom visited tower. He knew these passages well, having spent an entire childhood exploring them freely and often, but even he, perhaps not even his mother, knew all the centuries’ worth of secrets of their home.

It was a silent walk, only the soft sounds of Scorpius’s breath disrupted the quiet, and he was sure to tread carefully. He felt the urge to move quickly, to get his investigation over with as quickly as he could but knew that it was best to resist and carefully consider each turn and fork in the path. He eventually happened upon a dead end, to his dismay, but holding his lantern up he saw a ladder leading up to a trap door in the ceiling. It was worth it to get his bearings and see where he ended up, at the very least. He carefully hoisted himself on the rungs, inelegantly trying to balance the lantern as well. He turned the little handle on the door and pushed up with all his might, feeling resistance from the other side.

Frustrated and nervous about his task overall, he kept going, shoving harder and harder with all his strength. He fumbled with the lantern, snaking his arm through a rung to hold himself up with the crook of his elbow as his free arm kept shoving. Finally, with one final display of as much brute force as he could muster, the trap door gave, and he was able to force it open. The old trapdoor landed above with a great thud, startling him, but the hole was still covered. Holding the lantern up to it to see, he saw the underside of a thick, ornate rug.

He fumbled with the rug, clumsily shoving it off to the side, rumpling it before he was free to pass through to the top. Relieved, and a bit surprised he had managed it, Scorpius carefully pulled himself up into the room. When he got to his feet, he picked up the lantern and peered around to find himself in a bedroom he did not recognize.

It was finely decorated, and nothing was out of place, just like most of the rooms in the castle. There wasn’t even a speck of dust, though he knew Tilly likely regularly did the work of keeping the room in good condition. He looked out the window to orient himself and could tell from the view of the courtyard that he was in the tower he wanted to be. This had to be it. This was his uncle’s room. Shocked at his own luck, Scorpius smirked a little to himself, finally having made some headway on his task.

The light of his lantern reflected on a glass frame hanging on the wall and upon approach his suspicions about where he was were absolutely confirmed. Housed in the frame was a photograph picturing Konstantin Winters posing with his Quidditch broom in his Slytherin team captain uniform. It was a far cry from the little portrait on his grave in which the young man was older and wore a severe expression. In this photograph, he was all but beaming with pride and confidence. He was tall, handsome with thick dark hair and an uncanny porcelain-like face. The Malfoys were certainly recognizable by their pointed features and white-blond hair, as his mother liked to joke about often, but Scorpius firmly believed you could too spot a Winters a mile away by their own features.

Scorpius didn’t linger long on the mysteries of his Death Eater uncle whose loss still plagued his mother decades later. He set to work digging around, as respectfully as he could, in search of anything that could aid him. He knew his uncle had an interest in the Dark Arts and of course of his allegiances. Other than the impassable cellar far below, this was the only place his uncle or even his parents would hide something. His initial searches turned up nothing but odds and ends, old trinkets and objects that may have held sentimental value at some point but were now lost on Scorpius.

Scorpius pulled open a drawer in the desk and was met with stacks of weathered letters that Scorpius considered looking into but decided against it for time’s sake. However, under them, he found an old book. He lifted it carefully, trying not to disturb the letters in case Tilly were to notice something was amiss in her cleaning routine. He held the weathered cover up to the lantern light and read, _The Mystery and Majesty of the Dark Arts_ authored by one only called _Anonymous._

Inside the cover, he found another note; _Property of Konstantin Winters_ written in fine, delicate writing. Feeling hopeful, Scorpius looked at its contents, noticing a lengthy section on _Potions and Poisons of Unyielding Power_ and paged through the dry old pages quickly, turning and turning, noticing a different set of handwriting in the margins, recognizing his mother’s illegible chicken scratch on a few of the pages. This struck him as odd and dismayed him some, his mother new of the book which added a risk to his theft of it. However, it had been locked away in this room for an unknown length of time and Scorpius surmised that with how little she ever came into this room and how long she had been without the book, she wouldn’t miss it if he took if for a little while. He flipped through the book more until finally a chapter title caught his eye; _The Lost Arts of Basilisk Venom_. Scorpius smiled, triumphant and victorious, muttering a little congratulations to himself.

Scorpius had kept the book tucked away in the bottom of his school trunk, wrapped in robes and under other schoolbooks. He hardly took it out to read it, wanting only to get it into the school first and foremost. The hardest part was yet to come. The final family dinner before he left for school was always a bit somber, his mother especially expressing how much she would miss her son until the break, but after a solemn summer, Scorpius was eager to go back to his friends. Tilly came in as dessert was finishing carrying a long box covered in deep purple gift wrap.

“As you requested, Madam Malfoy,” Tilly said, handing the box to Valeria.

“Thank you, Tilly,” Valeria replied, and Tilly quickly cleared the plates and cutlery, starting with Scorpius’s place setting. Draco stood and followed his wife as she set the box on the table in front of Scorpius. He smiled up at his parents, even his father’s often unreadable expression forming into a soft, proud smile. It was a bit of a tradition for his parents to send Scorpius off with a farewell gift, last year had been a self-cleaning cauldron that Scorpius made great use of, but something in their faces told Scorpius that this was different.

“It’s a bit of a special one this year. I hope you like it,” Valeria said, confirming Scorpius’s suspicion. There was a hint of nervousness in her tone, which surprised him too. It was quite rare to see his dignified mother nervous about anything. Scorpius carefully unwrapped the gift with care and found a finely made wooden box, long and skinny, with a broom manufacturer’s logo that he did not recognize. He unlatched it and lifted the lid to reveal a broomstick neatly placed in velveteen cushioning, its dark wood shining with silver accents on the handle. The label on the tip of the handle read, _Tempest_.

“This is a—” Scorpius began.

“A Donner and Blitzen model Tempest from the late eighties,” Draco said proudly and with some excitement given his own interest in Quidditch. Scorpius had heard of the European broom-makers and he definitely knew of the Tempest, one of the most legendary broom models to be developed on the continent and now often considered worthy of collection given their craftmanship, expense and overall rarity.

“It was your uncle’s. He won the championship for Slytherin his last year on this broom,” Valeria said with an air of nostalgia looking at the broom. “I thought, since you’re going out for the team, it’s time for you to have it. I don’t have any use for it anymore. I know it’s not the newest broom, but your father looked into it and had something or other done.”

“I sent it in to Donner and Blitzen and they agreed to make changes to upgrade it. Took a fair amount of time, as it’s a complicated model, but I tested it myself and it’ll match or beat any broom of the other students. I’m a bit jealous to be honest. Considered keeping it myself…” Draco explained.

“Draco…” Valeria scolded half-heartedly. Scorpius laughed.

“It’ll serve you well,” Draco said.

“You can use your other one if you want,” Valeria began. “Your uncle loved the game and since I see a lot of him in you, it felt right to let you have it.”

Scorpius smiled, holding the broom in his hands. It was finely made; He could feel it and it was probably the most unique broom amongst his peers. He felt a tinge of guilt too knowing he had his uncle’s book of dark magic tucked away in his trunk, ready to travel with him to school. He could see in his mother’s eyes just how much this meant to her and unbeknownst to him then, it was the broom she rode to the Leaky Cauldron after she fled the Ministry of Magic at the end of her fifth year. He set it down and got to his feet to embrace his mother, who he was nearly as tall by this age.

“Thank you. It’s brilliant,” Scorpius said genuinely, and he could feel his mother’s shoulders relax to hear it. Scorpius went over to his father and they shared a more masculine embrace, shorter and not as warm, but Draco did place a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder.

“You’ll do well. Make us proud,” Draco said with a soft smirk, referring to Quidditch. “Perhaps we could take it for a spin…”

“It’s dark out, Draco. He’ll have time to practice with it at school. We talked about this,” Valeria said, turning on her husband. Draco smiled at Scorpius.

“Can’t say I didn’t try,” Draco said with a joking sigh.

The next morning, it was Albus’s turn to be a bit anxious as he walked at a hurried pace with his family at Platform 9 ¾. He was looking through the crowd for a sign of white blond hair, but people were rushing around and his own family was distracting him. His popular brother was being greeted left and right and his parents’ acquaintances kept trying to get their attention. Albus had been going stir crazy over the summer locked up with his family, and preferred solitude at many points. Now he was nearly in a rush to get away from them for some relief. He got the sense that his own father was growing concerned by this development.

“Dad, can I go find Scorpius?” Albus asked. Harry raised an eyebrow and gave his son a curious look.

“You’ll see him on the train. Let’s keep as a family for now,” Harry said gently. Albus was unamused and rolled his eyes.

“We’ve spent time together all summer!” Albus protested.

“And you got to see Scorpius too,” Harry said.

“Only because his grandmother died!” Albus said.

“Albus, the next time I’ll see you, you’ll be halfway done with school and it’s important to savor these moments—”

“It’s not heaven on earth, it’s just _school_.”

“It’s more than that—”

“Maybe to _you_.”

“As famous as you are, mate, you can be hard to find sometimes,” Ron Weasley said, Hermione and children in tow. Harry was jolted from the argument and put on a good face to warmly greet his friends.

“Maybe if you laid off the firewhiskey,” Harry said, referring to Ron’s older indulgence at Ginny’s birthday party. Ron’s face twisted in disgust.

“Never touching the stuff again,” Ron said with a slight shudder. “How’s it going, Albus? Ready to face off against Rosie on the pitch? I’ve got a good feeling Slytherin’s luck is about to change with her on the team.”

“We’ll see about that,” Albus said playfully.

“Never thought I’d see the day when a Potter would go out for the Slytherin team,” Ron teased. Albus noticed his father look down with a slightly conflicted look.

“It’ll be an interesting year,” Harry said. For once, Albus and Harry were in agreement, though for very different reasons. After suffering through familial farewells, Albus began his search for Scorpius on the train.

“Where you off to?” Rose asked, trotting up to him in the corridor.

“I’m going to go sit with Scorpius,” Albus replied, short in tone.

“Great, I’ll join you,” Rose said. Albus rolled his eyes.

“No, you won’t,” he said, seeing Rose visibly hurt by his words.

“He’s my friend too…” she said.

“I’ve seen you all summer long and I just want some peace and quiet with _my_ friends in _my_ house,” Albus said. It was half-lie, half-truth. He needed to speak to Scorpius privately as soon as possible regarding their scheme and he knew Rose would be of no help and would have likely done whatever she could to stop them. As well, he missed his friends in Slytherin and he had felt more and more like he didn’t fit in with his own family.

“Have it your way then,” Rose said with a pained sneer and stormed off. He felt guilty for what he said, at least how he said it, but now he was free to find Scorpius.

Scorpius was relieved when the compartment door slid open and Albus walked in. He was nervous he was going to miss the train because his mother kept fixing his hair and only his father could stop her once she set her mind to such a task.

“I saw you on the platform, but you were practically surrounded by your family,” Scorpius said as Albus took a seat.

“Try living with them. It never ends,” Albus complained. “We’ve got some time. Fiona will be on later, but she wrote me ahead of time that she wants to catch up with her girlfriends first.”

“I think Harper and Nott will be off annoying the girls. Is…Is Rose going to stop by?” Scorpius asked.

“Erm, probably not. We had a little tiff just now, but don’t worry you’ll have plenty of time to dance the night away at school,” Albus said.

“Shut up,” Scorpius said with a laugh. He leaned in and made sure no passersby were lingering by the compartment door to overhear. “How’d it go with your end?”

“I got my uncle good and drunk, kept refilling his cup with firewhiskey and asking him all kinds of questions about his school years. It was all ‘Oh, uncle Ron, tell us again how you got into the Chamber of Secrets to destroy that goblet’ or whatever and he loves that story, so his lips were nice and loose,” Albus explained.

“Great, so what do we do?” Scorpius asked.

“Apparently the entrance is in some bathroom, by one of the sinks, and you have to speak parseltongue to get in,” Albus said.

“Damn. Don’t suppose you’re a parselmouth, are you?”

“No, but my dad is…or was, actually. But you don’t have to be a parselmouth to get in, just have to say the right thing! That’s how my uncle did it,” Albus said.

“I see. What about the other thing? The sample…” Scorpius asked nervously, that was the hardest part, and the most illegal aspect, of the beginning of the plan.

“You’re going to love this, it’s brilliant. I went through the stuff your dad gave my dad while he wasn't looking after you brought me home. It didn’t seem all that urgent to him, to be honest. I got the right contact and used my dad’s official stationary, just like I said. I requested it be sent to Hogwarts to like study for ' _educational and research purposes_ ' and it worked! They’re going to send it to Professor Farley soon—”

“Albus, that’s insane! If they send it to her how are we going to get a hold of it?”

“I hadn’t thought that far. We’ll have to intercept it…somehow…”

Scorpius thought on it, panicking, but was struck with a flash of inspiration. “Wait. Farley never gets mail in the Great Hall.”

“What?”

“Have you ever seen her get a package or a letter in the Great Hall? She goes and fetches it from the owlery every morning. That’s why she was late for Potions during that snowstorm last year!” Scorpius said.

“You’re brilliant! We’ll just have to get there first and it shouldn’t be too long,” Albus said.

“I can’t believe it was that easy for you to arrange that. I didn’t think that would work at all,” Scorpius admitted.

“Being Harry Potter’s son does have a few perks. No one gets a letter from my dad and ignores it for long,” Albus said, a mixture of pride and discontent in his tone. “How about you? Manage to learn anything about basilisk venom?” Scorpius nodded and carefully rummaged through his things to find his uncle’s old book and handed it to Albus. Albus flipped through it, a look surprise on his face.

“There’s some…nasty stuff in here…” Albus said.

“There’s a whole section on basilisk venom towards the back. It looks…difficult, but this is the only lead I found. It was hidden away at my house,” Scorpius said.

“Well, that’s something at least. Why do you reckon your parents still have this around? Is it your dad’s?”

“No, I think it was my mother’s after my uncle died. It’s her writing in the margins, but she hasn’t looked at it in decades from the looks of it,” Scorpius said, realizing again the stark differences between their respective families. Albus handed the book back for Scorpius to stow away again.

“We’ve got a plan and it seems like it’ll work,” Albus said, a bit satisfied with himself. “How do you feel about it?”

“Terrified,” Scorpius said with a laugh. “You?”

“I dunno. I’m a little excited,” Albus began. “I don’t think my dad takes me seriously as a Slytherin. It’s like he just pretends I’m in Gryffindor. He even said I’m ‘probably the most Gryffindor-like Slytherin in history’ a few weeks back.”

Scorpius scoffed. “I think you’ve proved him wrong already.”

“Maybe, but I definitely will when we manage to open up Salazar Slytherin’s own secret chamber. And if we find anything out about this poison, then we’ll be heroes!”

Scorpius liked that idea. He had spent his childhood reading about Harry Potter’s heroics and secretly, somewhere in his heart of hearts, dreamt of being just like him someday, despite who his parents were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for the comments/kudos. Stay well.


	7. Like Father, Like Son

_Draco loved thunderstorms as a child._

_There was something about the juxtaposition of the tranquil comfort of Malfoy Manor and the chaos the storm unleashed outside over the grounds and gardens. The way the thunder would crack unpredictably, the hammering of rain and the way flashes of lightning would illuminate the world into daylight for a fraction of a second that mesmerized him. There was an assurance of safety, observing the storms from behind his windows and the adventurous urgency of the storms. Even at Hogwarts, where the sounds of storms were not as well heard from his dungeon dormitory, the gales would awaken the Black Lake into furious action. The water would rush past the windows loud and swirling, at the mercy of the conditions above but still so powerful in its own right._

_T_ _hat had changed in his late teens._

_Now, just past age thirty, with a young son and a private life far out of reach to the rest of even the wizarding world, he would find himself tense whenever the winds shifted, and the sky turned gray in the evenings. He had hoped the dread would fade with time, that maybe this storm would be the one he could sleep through, but awoke each time to the roar of a thunderclap sitting bolt upright, his breath hitched, chest tight and in a cold sweat as visions flashed in his memory. He’d rub his eyes in a pathetic attempt to expel them but continued to hear ghosts of sharp screams echoing off the walls within Malfoy Manor and he felt the phantom feeling of the ground shaking beneath as stone crumbled around him at the Battle of Hogwarts._

_This night was no different and he looked at his sleeping wife as his eyes readjusted in the darkness. He envied her ability to sleep through anything, often joking with a slight sneer that she’d sleep through Armageddon if it happened whilst she slept. Unable to withstand stasis, anxious and antsy, he had taken to quietly leaving their chambers and pacing the ancient halls of their home. His wand illuminated bright, he wandered the corridors to get his bearings and walk off the fear, hoping to calm and exhaust himself enough to return peacefully to bed._

_He made it to the top of the southwest tower. There was a comfort in knowing that his son slept peacefully, completely at ease with the world, for if Scorpius has no fear, nor should his father. Scorpius lived in ignorant innocence of horrors past. Draco often hoped he could keep it that way for his son’s sake. But as he quietly approached Scorpius’s room, that had been Valeria’s as a child, he heard the sound of muffled cries and a sharp gasp as thunder clapped once more._

_A primal, instinctual, fear in his heart coupled with the paternal urge to shield and protect overcame Draco. Without thought and with sudden urgency, Draco opened the door, startling Scorpius again._

_“It’s alright. It’s just me,” Draco said calmly. Valeria had let a few lanterns remain lit in Scorpius’s room to prevent total darkness in the storm and Draco could see plainly in the soft yellow light Scorpius’s tear-stained, puffy face as the boy pulled the blankets up to his chin. There was a sudden relief that came over Scorpius’s expression as Draco approached and knelt carefully by the edge of the bed; His knees weren’t what they used to be. “Is it the storm?”_

_Scorpius nodded as lightning lit up the room with a flash and the boy gasped again. Draco quietly shushed him and gently moved Scorpius’s hair, so much like his own, out of the latter’s face. Draco silently cast a charm on the tall glass windows the rain pelted against, turning the pounding sounds into dull white noise. “Do you want me to stay?”_

_Scorpius nodded again and Draco stood to pull a chair close to the side of the bed. “I’ll stay until your asleep.”_

_“No. Morning,” Scorpius said weakly, his voice a bit nasally from his crying. Draco held back a little laugh. He wanted to eventually return to his own bed, but he was defenseless against his son’s wishes._

_“Alright. Until morning,” Draco said. “Now close your eyes.”_

_Scorpius, at once soothed by his father’s presence obliged. Though getting Scorpius to sleep was not without hiccups. Draco would sometimes shift in the chair and Scorpius would attempt to slyly look to his father. “Still here. Close your eyes,” Draco would softly say, trying to sound stern while trying not to laugh._

_Draco drifted into daydreams and got lost in the kind of calm rumination that so often occurs in the witching hours of night. He flexed his left arm, knowing full well some wounds would not heal, but wishing them to against hope. Perhaps someday he’d be able to sleep through a stormy night at least. That much seemed a feasible thing to hope for. He remembered the storms of his youth, his juvenile fascination with them and how he later learned that watching a storm from a window was a far cry from being caught in the middle of one._

_The storms he had weathered as a teenager were the very same that brought him to her, Valeria. He still sometimes would look at her and think how undeserving he still was, how he could not reason why she didn’t take the opportunity to cleanly leave him over a decade ago. Selfishly, a trait that never fully left him, he was grateful that he had her now despite the manner in which their coupling occurred. For too it was through the same storms that eventually gave them Scorpius. Draco did not know how to feel nor how to express such bewildered gratitude, even now as his own fears of memories past left him, completely disarmed by one look from that little boy and were replaced by a gentleness Draco never believed himself capable of._

_“Draco…”_

_Draco stirred, neck stiff and aching as he opened his eyes and lifted his head in response to the slow shaking of his shoulder. Valeria took her hand away and Draco saw her, illuminated softly by morning light and no storm in sight or earshot. She held out a cup of something warm and soothing and he took it with a grateful smile. He looked to Scorpius, a messy lump under the covers, peacefully asleep._

_“Storm startled him, so he asked me to stay. Must have fallen asleep myself,” Draco said, voice a bit rough. She nodded in response to the obvious observation. “You’re never up early,” he continued, Scorpius and Draco always awoke before Valeria without fail. She shrugged._

_“Happens every so often. I can have Tilly get some breakfast going if you want to join me downstairs,” Valeria offered. Draco took a sip of coffee, black as he always preferred, and shook his head._

_“I told him I’d stay until morning,” he said._

_“Looks like you’ve done your duty,” she said smiling sweetly, speaking in a whisper._

_“I’ll stay until he wakes up. I don’t want him to think I left him in the night,” Draco insisted softly. Valeria understood implicitly and squeezed his shoulder a little before dismissing herself to slowly get the day going. Draco leaned forward, elbows on his knees, allowing the cup to warm his hands and though stiff and tired, felt oddly fearless for the first time in a long time. He didn’t pretend to know what he was doing when it came to fatherhood, but he’d be damned if he ever for a moment let Scorpius believe that he wouldn’t be there when he needed him. It was then that Draco knew he wanted nothing more than to be the father he sometimes wished he had._

Scorpius’s new broom soon became his pride and joy. It was the star of the Slytherin common room, at least amongst his friends, the first few days of term. By the time the day of Quidditch trials arrived, Scorpius looked at it to stave off his natural performance anxiety. It was leaned up on the bench beside him at breakfast the morning of Slytherin’s Quidditch trials as Scorpius bounced his leg, waiting for Albus to arrive. It was Albus’s turn to check the owlery for the Estonian delivery addressed to Professor Farley before she got a chance to retrieve it. Scorpius was relieved when Albus took a seat beside him, also decked out in Quidditch gear.

“Nothing yet,” Albus whispered. Scorpius was a bit let down by the news. “Don’t worry. This official stuff takes time. The paperwork and all that. We’ve still got all year.”

Scorpius was about to protest, ready to correct Albus that he needed all the time he could get to work with something so rare, dangerous and academically out of his league as basilisk venom but was interrupted. He looked up at the sound of someone clearing their throat to see Rose, a vision of confidence, smiling behind them.

“Just wanted to wish you two luck today,” she said. It was easy for her to say. The Gryffindor team’s trials had passed already and she officially made it on the team. “I’ll be cheering you on from the stands. Well, maybe not too much. Can’t say I’d be happy for Slytherin bettering their chances…” she teased.

“You can’t watch,” Albus protested.

“And why is that?” Rose protested indignantly.

“Because Bulstrode doesn’t want anyone from the other houses to watch,” Albus said. Oscar Bulstrode was a seventh year and the current captain of the Slytherin team. Scorpius remembered his own father’s stunned surprise when Scorpius shared Oscar’s appointment. Apparently, his parents were in the same year as Oscar’s mother who was not nearly as _“athletically inclined,”_ in Valeria’s words, as Oscar was.

“It’s not personal,” Scorpius said with more tact than Albus. “It’s a matter of trade secrets is all.” That was the truth. Bulstrode was apparently quite strict about who was in the know when it came to Quidditch practices and strategies. Bulstrode was a bit of a dunce when it came to school, only wanting to achieve decent enough marks to remain on the team but was downright genius when it came to Quidditch strategy. Slytherin was a lot tougher to beat with Bulstrode at the helm, to the great ire of the other houses, notably Gryffindor.

“Wood doesn’t have a rule like that,” Rose said.

“Then she’s not as smart at Quidditch as she thinks she is,” Albus said. “I highly doubt she’d want Slytherin’s spectating her practices and trials.”

“Probably not, but there’s no official rule against it,” Rose said with a sprinkling of sass. “I can go where I please, thank you very much.”

“Rose, can you just not come? I don’t want you writing home about it and—”

“What’s wrong with that?” Rose interrupted. Rose, as smart as she was, could be a bit thick when it came to reading people, Scorpius found. It was easy for Scorpius to see that Albus was uncomfortable at the thought of his family coming to watch him go out for the team and Albus had frequently shared his frustrations from the summer at his parents, who had wasted no time in overwhelming him with tips and tricks. It was meant out of love, most like, but Albus had made it clear that he wanted something, just one thing, that was his own.

“Just drop it!” Albus said annoyed.

“See you on the pitch then…” Rose said. She shared a bewildered and slightly offended look with Scorpius, and he mouthed an apology to her as she turned to walk away. Albus was looking into his breakfast as if he could will it to explode with his gaze. Scorpius let Albus eat some more before proposing they head down to the pitch early, away from all the hustle and bustle of the Great Hall. Albus thought it was a grand idea.

Rose had not listened to Albus’s plea but seemed to be doing her best to keep herself unnoticed in the stands with Lily, Albus’s younger sister. She smiled and waved a little at Scorpius who felt a strange mixture of nervousness and confidence to see her there. Fiona and some of the other Slytherins uninvolved with the team sat on to cheer on the new recruits vying for a coveted spot on the team. Bulstrode was a practical drill sergeant throughout the trial, but Scorpius somehow managed to keep pace, marveling still at just how capable his broomstick was. He flew deftly, confidently and with a sort of uncannily smooth balance. The ordeal was exhausting, so much so that Scorpius was unsure of how well he did, particularly given Bulstrode’s strict attitude.

But his nerves broke away in a flash when Bulstrode announced that both he and Albus had made it onto the team, replacing the positions of Seeker and Chaser respectively. It was the proudest moment of his school career thus far, only marred by Harper’s disappointment in being told to try again next year. The Slytherin table was especially rowdy at lunch, which had turned into an impromptu celebration in honor of the new and complete Slytherin team. Scorpius and Albus were beaming with pride as they got words of congratulations and votes of confidence from their older Slytherin peers.

“Managed to buy your way in, Malfoy? Tell me, what’s Slytherin’s going rate these days?” Clarence Boot had crashed the impromptu party, crossing the room from the Ravenclaw table. Word traveled fast when it came to Quidditch. “Bet Potter didn’t have to pay anything. I bet Bulstrode was just dying to have Harry Potter’s son on the team.”

“Already a sore loser, Boot? We haven’t even beat you in a match yet,” Albus said.

“Don’t be mean, Albus. Boot just wants to get a head start so he can get accustomed to disappointment,” Scorpius said. Albus laughed along with some of the others at the Slytherin table who overheard them. Boot flushed pink with anger and his eyes darted to Scorpius’s broom, propped up against the bench.

“That’s some broom you got there. A gift from daddy?” Boot said.

“You feeling alright, Boot? Look a little green with envy,” Scorpius said, not even Clarence Boot could shake Scorpius’s confidence. “It was my uncle’s, one of the most accomplished Quidditch players this school has ever seen, if you must know.”

Boot’s face turned to a sneer. “It’s worse than I thought. It’s one thing when your parents buy you the broom to get you a spot, but it’s a whole other thing when they give you an old Death Eater’s broom.”

The mood around their spot at the Slytherin table turned dark and the other Slytherins stared Boot down. There was a culture in Slytherin that even still kept them apart from the other houses. Many students were related to former Death Eaters, there was very little degrees of separation when it came to those ties. It went unspoken in Slytherin that mentioning it, particularly with any malice, would earn the offender a target of disdain on their back. Scorpius felt it too. Boot had raised the stakes from schoolyard rude exchange to all-out war, at least to Scorpius’s mind.

“Watch your mouth, Boot,” Albus said, never hesitating to stick up for his friend.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if it was enchanted…Might even be cursed…Perhaps the Headmistress should take a long hard look at it…” Clarence taunted. Scorpius’s heart sank. Even the suspicion of a dark object in the school was taken very seriously by the staff. He would likely miss the first few practices if such an inspection took too long. The implication was all out ridiculous; His parents would never give him a cursed object, especially for Quidditch of all things. In fact, he was certain his parents would raise hell if Boot managed to get his broom taken away.

“How’d you manage to get into Ravenclaw with how absolutely stupid you are?” Albus asked. Boot was not swayed.

“I’m just concerned for the safety of other players, Potter. The stories my dad told me about Malfoy’s parents…well, you’d be worried too,” Boot said.

“What’s that mean?” Scorpius asked darkly.

“Ever find it funny how your daddy smuggling other Death Eaters into the castle, a history making event by the way, isn’t mentioned at all in the updated editions of _Hogwarts: A History_? He also told me about your mum. How she always seemed so nice…up to the day she nearly killed Gi—”

“You know _nothing_ about my family!” Scorpius said, his rage volcanic.

“Judging by the look on your face, Malfoy, you don’t either,” Boot said, quite satisfied with himself. “I’m honestly a bit surprised that your dad lets you hang around this one, Potter. There’s been dark rumors at the Ministry, my dad says. If I were your dad, I’d at least suspect that Malfoy here may not be the friend you think he is.”

“And you think we give a damn about what your glorified accountant dad thinks, Boot? Don’t make us laugh,” Albus said.

“I’d rather have him for a dad than a bloody _Death Eater_ ,” Boot sneered. Scorpius broke. He lunged across the table toward Boot, but Albus and Harper held him back even as he struggled against their grips. Boot laughed. “Like father, like son. Seems I struck a nerve. Perhaps I’m on to something…”

Scorpius shoved his feelings down, not wanting to reveal to anyone, let alone Clarence Boot, how much the comments and implications hurt his feelings. It was times like this that made him realize that though he loved his parents, he sometimes hated the Malfoy name. His parents had shared with them what they were like at Hogwarts, indeed finding it a bit ironic that Scorpius and Albus had gotten on so well. Draco joked about how Albus was far more pleasant, far less annoying, than Harry Potter and sometimes, only sometimes, told stories about how much the two men loathed each other as boys in their years at Hogwarts. After a couple glasses of wine, Draco had told Scorpius the story of challenging Potter to a duel…

And Scorpius had an idea.

He relaxed and stood from his spot at the table after his friends released him, an aura of calm overtaking his demeanor.

“Tell you what, Boot. Let’s settle this like men, like real wizards. Wizard’s duel at midnight tonight. How about the Trophy Room?” Scorpius proposed. Even the other Slytherins were shocked by Scorpius’s idea, but Boot was stuck. “If you win, I’ll give my broom the Headmistress myself. If I win, you have to do my Herbology homework for a week, and I’ll make sure you do it right.”

“Who’s your second?” Boot asked.

“I am,” Albus said, standing up.

“Fine. See you at midnight, Malfoy,” Boot said with disdain before marching off, presumably to find his second.

Scorpius was up late reading the book on the dark arts he had discovered in his uncle’s old bedroom, trying to get as much studying done as possible before the time came to actually work on the secret project himself. It was hard to make heads or tails of it and he only had time to study when others weren’t around. He shoved it away clumsily when he heard someone rushing down the stairs of the boys’ dormitory, relieved to see that it was only Albus, who stood with his head held high, ready to go.

“Alright, so I’m thinking we can ask Fiona to come, if we can find a way to get into the girls’ dorms, maybe. She can keep a lookout!” Albus said.

Scorpius laughed a little.

“Hit him with a stunner first, a hard one, catch him off guard if you can.”

“Albus—”

“I’ll coach you from behind. I’m pretty sure he’ll ask Jacobson to be his second, they’re pretty tight, but Rose says Jacobson is terrible at Defense Against the Dark Arts, so he’s hardly a threat.”

“Listen—”

“We’ll make it quick, but we need some kind of plan—” Albus said before looking to see Scorpius laughing in the armchair. “What’s so funny? We’ve got to get going, it’s nearly time!”

“We’re not going, Albus,” Scorpius said.

“What?! You challenged him!”

“I did. But I might have also reported to Farley that Boot and a friend were planning on being in the Trophy Room around midnight looking for trouble…” Scorpius said. Albus’s face fell from determined to surprise before lifting to a smile.

“You clever bastard,” Albus said, laughing and taking a seat near Scorpius. “I’m a bit disappointed though. I was looking forward to giving Boot what he deserves. How’d you even come up with it?”

“Apparently my father did the same thing to yours their first year at school,” Scorpius said. To Scorpius’s surprise, Albus laughed.

“Sounds about right. Like father, like son, I guess,” Albus said, using Boot’s own words but not with any malice.

“He’s got good ideas sometimes,” Scorpius said with a shrug. The boys didn’t see Boot on Sunday, taking the day to catch up on schoolwork they had neglected over the weekend. Still on top of the world from rising to the coveted position of being on the Slytherin team on Monday, they waited outside the Potions classroom elated. That is, until Rose stomped up to them and pulled them off to the side.

“What you did to Boot was awful!” she scolded.

“How’d you find out about it?” Albus asked.

“Jacobson told Lin, who told Rebecca Wood who told James who told me,” Rose explained. “And my dad has told the story of Mr. Malfoy challenging them to a duel a hundred times. You really didn’t think I’d figure out what you did?”

“Relax, Rose. He had it coming,” Scorpius said, drawing a glare from Rose.

“Maybe, but you don’t think you took it too far?” she asked.

“You didn’t hear what he was saying. He was saying Scorpius’s broom is cursed or something because his uncle and dad were…y’know…” Albus said.

“Death Eaters. You can say it,” Scorpius said quietly, uncomfortable. Rose’s demeanor morphed from rightful indignance to conflicted.

“Maybe you could have just been the bigger person and not given him the ammunition—”

“I was the bigger person. I didn’t actually duel him,” Scorpius said.

“You know what I mean,” Rose said. “I should warn you, he’s on the war path now…”

“Noted,” Albus said.

“Scorpius, I understand _why_. I’m just not sure—”

“I’m not sure you do understand why,” Scorpius said. He hadn’t meant the comment to come out as meanly as it sounded. It sort of slipped out, given the sore nature of the subject when it came to his family. Before Rose could respond, visibly a little hurt, Farley called the students in for potions, announcing a pop quiz to everyone’s dismay. It wasn’t until after Transfiguration, which Slytherin had with Ravenclaw, that Scorpius got a taste of Boot’s rage as Rose had warned.

“Malfoy!” Boot called out, storming up to Albus and Scorpius in the corridor. Boot had underperformed in class, likely due to his rage. “You call yourselves real wizards? Challenging someone to a duel and not showing up is one of the most dishonorable—”

“Haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Boot,” Scorpius said with a conniving grin.

“I’m going to tell Flitwick. They all heard you challenge me—”

“Oi, Harper? Did Scorpius challenge Boot to a duel the other day?” Albus called out as Harper passed them.

“No, don’t seem to recall anything like that,” Harper said with a shrug.

“What about you, Fiona?” Albus asked.

“I remember we were all celebrating the new Quidditch team,” Fiona said, smirking. Boot was red with anger.

“Looks like you’re a little short on witnesses, Boot. Only the Slytherins were around and they don’t seem to remember a thing…” Scorpius taunted.

“This isn’t over,” Boot said through his teeth. “I’ve got detention on Saturday thanks to Farley at the same time as Ravenclaw’s Quidditch trials!” Scorpius couldn’t help but start laughing at that. He hadn’t planned for that result, of course, but it was just icing on the cake at this point.

“That’s too bad. I was looking forward to kicking your ass on the pitch,” Albus said.

“It might be a good thing, Albus. I was going to write my parents about how much of a charity case the Ravenclaw team is and have them donate some funds for new equipment, just to bring them a little closer to our level. Without Boot to bring them down, they’ll be better off enough that they won’t need it,” Scorpius said, inciting raucous laughter from Albus once more. Boot was incensed and lunged at Scorpius but stopped short as McGonagall walked out of the classroom.

“Mr. Boot!” she called out as she marched over. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“N—Nothing, ma’am…” Boot said, still enraged, but defeated. McGonagall locked eyes with Scorpius a hint of recognition flashing across her face followed by slight suspicion. Unbeknownst to Scorpius, McGonagall saw his father in the boy, which was easy enough to do anyway, but something in Scorpius’s haughty confidence now brought memories back to her, not all of them welcome. Her thoughts lingered for a moment on the sly smirk that Scorpius wore, and McGonagall immediately saw a flash of Valeria in the boy as well. Perhaps this year should be the year she retired…

“Off to your classes. All of you!” McGonagall ordered and the students dispersed without another word.

“Good thing she didn’t retire last year,” Albus said with a shrug.

The next morning it was Albus’s turn to once more check the owlery for the anxiously awaited package and Scorpius was picking at his breakfast when Albus rushed to join him at the table.

“It’s here. We’ve got it,” Albus said. Scorpius immediately tensed up.

“You have it on you!?” Scorpius whispered harshly.

“I’m not stupid. I stashed it in my trunk. But now this means we can figure out how to get into the you-know-what,” Albus said. The high Scorpius had been riding from making the Quidditch team turned to dread. He was not looking forward to what had to be done and there was little hope for planning much ahead of time. They were already in expulsion territory just having the poison and forging official documents. Scorpius would not risk looking into the poison that allegedly killed his grandmother before they were safely locked away in the Chamber of Secrets.

“I can’t say I’m too pleased with your scores…” Professor Farley said as she handed back the pop quizzes in Potions. Albus looked relieved at his mark.

“Thanks for letting me peak at yours,” he whispered to Scorpius, noting Scorpius’s high mark.

“You owe me in Herbology,” Scorpius joked back.

“Miss Granger-Weasley…I expected better,” Professor Farley said quietly behind the boys, handing Rose her quiz back. “See me after class.”

The rest of class was unremarkable save for Rose being unusually quiet throughout the lesson. Scorpius later made off for the library in order to try to dig up any information he could on the Chamber of Secrets and what they might find down there. He was searching through the shelves when he spotted a mess of auburn hair sprawled out on a secluded little study table in one of the aisles. He knew it was Rose and was about to call out a greeting but noticed that her slumped shoulders were shaking. Concerned, Scorpius slowly approached.

“Rose?” he asked gently. She sat up straight and wiped her face on her sleeve, only looking at him for a moment out of the corner of her eye.

“Hi, Scorpius…” she said, sniffling.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Fine. I’m fine…just stressed from homework is all,” she said. Scorpius spotted the pop quiz with the poor grade on the desk before Rose, a couple wet tear stains still on the parchment.

“It’s just one quiz,” Scorpius said, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s not the end of the world.”

“Tell that to my mum,” she said with a sneer. Scorpius didn’t know Hermione Granger-Weasley well but was well aware of her renowned reputation for intelligence, noted both publicly and by his own parents. From what little he saw of the woman, she seemed nice. Not the type to severely admonish her own daughter over one bad grade.

“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself,” he said.

“Am I? My mum’s the bloody Minister for Magic! She never leaves me alone about grades and my dad won’t shut up about me being just like her!” Rose exclaimed, though she tried to keep her voice down. “She told me not to let Quidditch be a distraction and we…never mind…”

“It’s alright. My parents get on my case too,” Scorpius said. It wasn’t an outright lie, as his parents never brought him to tears over his grades, though they did monitor his scores to the best of their ability. “Listen, I can help you, if you want. I’m decent at Potions and my mother’s a Potion Master.”

Rose angrily started gathering her things. “I don’t _want_ your help and I don’t need it from someone who can barely keep himself awake in Herbology! If you would be so kind as to leave me alone so I can bloody study!”

“Fine. Have it your way,” Scorpius said, admittedly quite hurt by Rose’s outburst and marched off with his head down.

“Scorpius, wait—!” Rose called after him, trying to do so quietly, but Scorpius did not turn. He had never seen her like this and was sincerely trying to help. A selfish part of him had hoped, in retrospect, that this might be an opportunity to spend more time with her. She immediately regretted her behavior by the sound of it, but he was too embarrassed and pride too injured to face her for now. Instead, he went to do exactly what he came here for; To try and gather any information he could access on the Chamber of Secrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been really fun to write so far, so thank you for reading and for all the comments/kudos! Stay well, stay safe.


	8. We Are Not Them

_Bowen Folland loved hiking and in the small Welsh-speaking village in which he was raised, he had many opportunities to do so. Snowdonia felt like a fairytale world, tourists and hikers would often say. The landscape alone was enough to convince a visitor that this was true, but Bowen felt it deeper. He spent his young life hearing the legends of ancient estates, old traditions and folklore and even felt that the whispers of old tales still breathed life in the vast, rocky landscape._

_His favorite tales as a child were the spooky ones. Out of all of them, he’d beg his father over and over to retell the legends of the Sorcerers of the Hidden Lake, as it was called in English. As Bowen’s father told it, long ago and before the wars and invasions of these lands, the elite families whose names and stony estates were now lost to time, kept company with magic-doers. These sorcerers served as counsellors, protectors and would be called upon whenever their aid was needed in exchange for privileges, security and often luxury. At some point over their centuries of service, these sorcerers were granted an estate of their own built with the aid of their magic in the center of a lake deep into the mountainous landscape. For these sorcerers were not randomly born, but were rather a family with a lineage just as proud as any other. For quite some time, this mysterious family mingled with their non-magical neighbors and counterparts freely. Bowen’s father told him they would often place their children in advantageous marriages with non-magic folk and perhaps some native to these lands still had their blood flowing in their veins to the modern day._

_But a schism came when the times changed, and the world grew smaller. Mysteries and magic became feared by forces who sought power in the more traditional, more violent, ways. As the elite families of this part of Wales fell or bent to these powers, the sorcerers who served them felt betrayed and vowed to lock themselves away from non-magical eyes for all time. The family disappeared into the mountains and their lake-born castle with them. Many have wandered the hills over the subsequent centuries surveying, mapping, cataloguing and tracking in an effort to rediscover the place, to see if there were any truth in the folktales, all to no avail._

_It was there that it became rumored that the descendants of the old sorcerers lived on still. For some intrepid explorers would never return, others would wander into their hamlets disoriented and confused and others too would be white as ghosts and mute, as if bewitched. Parents would advise their children not to wander far, especially at night, or else happen upon a cloaked figure illuminated by moonlight with the power to summon all manner of horror upon the unlucky intruder with just a flick of their wrist. It was said now that on a full moon on a cloudless night, one might see a witch cloaked in billowing black robes flying overhead on a broom._

_Bowen loved this story, although it was mainly now used as a way to scare young children into going to bed on time or shared by friends ‘round roaring bonfires. It was now the twenty-first century, and while here tradition still meant something, the old witch stories were scoffed at. Bowen was a child no more. Just past eighteen years old with fresh eyes set on big dreams but having no clue where to begin, Bowen liked to retreat to the childhood stories when he hiked the landscape near home. The year prior, he happened to meet a woman from a university near the coast who was studying the area, having found old records of an ancient graveyard or burial ground in the area. She was kind enough to indulge Bowen’s curiosity, showing him possible locations on her complex maps. He spent weeks afterward researching himself, though the internet connection in the remote area he lived was often shoddy. He found only scant references and old, poorly designed, blog sites from decades prior written by overzealous enthusiasts of the creepy and cryptic. Bowen eventually gave up finding more about this burial ground or the Sorcerers of the Hidden Lake._

_The old hermit, who lived in a makeshift home outside the village, recently came to the village and told anyone who would lend him an ear of a strange thing he saw. He believed he had found the Hidden Lake in his recent wanderings, but there was no castle. He saw only a man dressed all in black with hair as white snow along with a similar looking boy standing at the edge of the water. When he blinked, they were gone._

_The hermit’s story stuck with Bowen all week and by the weekend, he had a plan. He managed enough curiosity to have a go at his own search, even enlisting his friend Rhys, of similar age, to accompany him. They set off in the morning to milk the daylight for all it was worth, although they were prepared to make a small camp if they opted to extend the excursion. Knowing the landscape well, they trekked along for hours and had a merry time of it too. Bowen didn’t really expect to make a discovery, of course, these were just legends after all, but the joy was in the journey anyway._

_But as evening was turning to dusk and as the two young men crested a hill for a suitable place to make camp, they were stunned to find at the top a large mass of trees, none taller than ten feet, whose branches sprawled about the ground, twisting around each other like bony fingers. The greenery was surrounded by a short stone wall on all sides with a chunk missing, marking an entrance into the thicket. Curious, Bowen and Rhys tentatively moved forward and as soon as they entered, Bowen felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. An eerie unease overcame him, and he felt all the sudden as a trespasser, rather than explorer. Under their feet were old stones, wide and seemingly deliberately placed and so they carefully minded their footing until the path cleared and they happened upon a circle of tall stones._

_They turned to each other, unsure of what they had stumbled upon and Bowen moved to speak when he felt his heart skip a beat at the sound of another voice._

_“Hieronymus Winters finally reunited with his devoted wife. How touching,” one, a man, said sarcastically in a distinctly English accent. Bowen and Rhys squatted down, creeping closer to spy. Through another thicket, they found two men; one tall and thin, another lumbering and large, standing before what looked to them to be a caved-in stone ruin._

_“Who’s next?” the larger man said, immediately shushed by the first._

_“Patience, Goyle.”_

_“If we don’t do somethin’ soon, how will our people know to join us?”_

_“We aren’t as strong as we were, none of us are. We need sow discord, cast suspicion, play the long game.”_

_“They, the traitors, they’ll know it was us first, won’t they?”_

_“Yes. But who’s going to believe them? This way, we buy time and strength by getting rid of those who know us best and can weaken us the most.”_

_“Nott said targeting them isn’t smart…” the heavyset one said, seeming incredibly unsure and conflicted in his tone. The older, thinner, man put his hand roughly on the other’s shoulder._

_“Nott also says you’re a half-wit and a fool. Is that the sort of man you want to put all your trust in? I see your gifts and strengths, and I’m the one who won’t let you waste them on Nott’s political plots. But do keep him close. If anyone can get close to **them**_ , _it’s Nott.” The man paused. “Any luck in finding the Winters estate?”_

 _“Not yet. I’ve been tellin’ you that it’s impossible. There’s no way we’d get an invitation addressed to us. Maybe her friends would have a way but—”_

_“You sound unsure. What’s wrong?”_

_“He was…he was my friend, Rodolphus,” the oafish sounding man admitted._

_“Have you listened to nothing I’ve said!?” the thin man said harshly. “He never did you any favors, Goyle. He got your true friend killed, remember? He abandoned you to run off with his child bride, the same girl who murdered my wife; His own kin! He was never your friend.”_

_“I guess…”_

_“You’ll have time to come to terms with this. We’ll take out the traitors one-by-one, surrounding him and by the time he’ll realize, by time he can have enough evidence to get Ministry protection, it’ll be too late.”_

_A twig snapped under Bowen’s foot. The men stopped and turned, their faces hooded._

_“Seems we got company.”_

_Rhys was found a day later disoriented and dehydrated, wandering about the hills near the village with no memory of what happened. Bowen was never found._

“Scorpius?”

It was Scorpius’s turn to shuffle his things and try to hide what he was looking at, sat at a secluded desk in the library. He turned to see Rose, holding a few books, and keeping a polite distance. They hadn’t spoken in a few days since the incident in the library.

“What can I do for you, Rose?” Scorpius said, not realizing that he sounded like his mother. Rose took a couple steps forward.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” she asked. Scorpius nodded. “I wanted to apologize for acting like that a few days ago. I just…felt like I was under a lot of pressure and snapped a little. I’m sorry.”

Scorpius was a bit touched to hear it and instantly forgave her. He found it hard for him to stay miffed with her. “It’s fine. It happens.”

“Can you let me make it up to you?” she asked. Scorpius laughed.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Scorpius said, blushing a little.

“I heard Albus is going with Fiona to Hogsmeade this weekend,” Rose began, pausing nervously. “Would you…do you want to go with me? Maybe?”

Scorpius blushed again. He had planned on skipping the Hogsmeade outing in order to study for his secret mission, but Rose looked really nice today, (had she done something with her hair?) and without much thought, he blurted out a “Yes,” a bit louder than he intended to, which made Rose laugh.

“I’ll see you outside on Saturday then?” she asked.

“Yeah. Saturday…” Scorpius said.

“She likes you,” Albus teased in the common room later that evening when Scorpius told him about Rose’s offer.

“Well, yeah, she’s my friend,” Scorpius said. Albus rolled his eyes.

“You know, I thought you were smart, but you’re being so thick right now,” Albus said.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh my God, Malfoy, she asked you on a _date_ ,” Fiona said. Scorpius blushed bright red and shook his head.

“No, she just wants to make up for snapping at me in the library the other day,” Scorpius insisted.

“You really think that she’d ask to spend the entire day with you in Hogsmeade just because she felt bad for telling you how you fall asleep in Herbology, which is true, by the way,” Albus said.

“Yes. Yes, I do,” Scorpius said.

“You should have heard her all summer. After you left my house she was all, _How’s Scorpius? Is he holding up okay? Have you heard from Scorpius?_ And then, after I came back from yours, she wouldn’t shut up, _Are Scorpius’s parents mean? How is he doing? Did he mention me?_ She wasn’t subtle at all!” Albus said, putting on a higher tone to imitate Rose’s voice poorly.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?!” Scorpius said.

“Because it was annoying. I honestly tried to tune it out when I saw her,” Albus said with a laugh. “James is gonna love this when he hears about it.”

“Don’t tell him,” Scorpius said.

“And why not? Maybe he’ll leave _me_ alone for once,” Albus said.

“Scorpius’s first date, how cute. You should write home about this one,” Fiona teased a little. Scorpius laughed aloud.

“My father would drop dead as soon as he read it,” Scorpius said.

“I didn’t how he had that much bad blood with her parents,” Albus said.

“No, but she is the Minister’s daughter. That’d give him a heart attack at the very least…” Scorpius said.

Albus’s words were getting to Scorpius as the days passed and he departed the common room early to meet Rose for the Hogsmeade outing, only to find that she beat him there. She was standing near the castle’s entrance, fiddling with her gloves and she was alone for once. She was usually always surrounded by friends. She perked up to see him as he approached, smiling broadly. She had tied her hair back and unbeknownst to Scorpius had donned her nicest set of robes that weren’t outright formal.

“Thanks for going with me,” Scorpius said as they conversed casually making their way to the village. “I know it’s just because of what happened in the library, but I still appreciate it. It was either stay behind or be stuck as Albus’s third wheel.”

“What _is_ going on with them anyway?” Rose asked with a smirk, deftly changing the subject.

Scorpius laughed. “I don’t think I even know. Albus insists it’s nothing serious, but if he’s not with me, he’s with Fiona. Probably shouldn’t tell you that.”

“It’ll be our secret,” Rose said.

The two of them enjoyed a pleasant afternoon, and Scorpius could easily claim that this was some of the best fun he had in his young life. Of course, he enjoyed leisurely spending time at home, hanging out with Albus and traveling around his corner of the wizarding world when his parents actually decided to leave the house. But this was different. There was something childish, and yet so very grown up about wandering the lanes and shops with Rose. She snorted when she laughed sometimes, Scorpius learned and found quite endearing. Rose noticed the way Scorpius would avert his gaze whenever he laughed. She observed how tall he had grown since she saw him over the summer. He discovered that his heart would tense, in an oddly pleasant way, when she led him by the hand out of a crowded Honeydukes.

“Might want to slow down on those, you’ll make yourself sick,” Scorpius joked as Rose shoved another small handful of toffees into her mouth.

“My mum never lets me have so much of this stuff!” Rose said with her mouth full. She waited until she finished chewing and swallowing before speaking again. “My dad sneaks them to me when he can, though. You didn’t have to pay for everything, y’know.”

“I was raised to pay when out with a lady,” Scorpius said in an overly silly haughty voice, but he flushed pink realizing what he said. “Not that this is—You know what I mean.”

Rose laughed a little. “I didn’t realize you were that traditional.”

“That’s just my normal, I guess. Speaking of, can I buy you a butterbeer? The Three Broomsticks is just ahead,” Scorpius said. He was feeling more confident than ever, but that fell when Rose slowly came to a stop.

“I don’t know. I’m sure it’s real crowded…”

“We can wait our turn. Unless you're too impatient,” Scorpius said with a little laugh. 

“I just…I’m having fun with it being just us. I don’t want any…unwanted attention—”

“What’s that mean?” Scorpius asked. Rose sighed.

“I just don’t want to feed the rumor mill,” Rose said.

“There were loads of people who saw us at Honeydukes.”

“That was different. Everyone was focused on buying treats, not who was milling about.”

Scorpius looked down and stepped away. “Did you not tell anyone you coming to Hogsmeade with me?”

“Of course, I did! That’s exactly why I don’t want to go in there. James has been giving me hell for it all week, though he’s really only concerned about me spilling some Quidditch secrets. Really, I just don’t want anything to spread around or get back to my parents, especially since we’re…just friends,” Rose explained. Scorpius was having a hard time following her logic but was ready to chalk up her reasoning to being shy or for the sake of friendly house rivalry. He opted not to push the matter further.

“I see. So, what would you like to do instead?” he asked.

“Let’s just walk and talk. That’s been…it’s been really nice,” she said with a soft smile. Scorpius found himself unable to say no to her and obliged. They wandered on, the conversation being a bit awkward at first, but eventually getting back into a similar groove they had before. They were more alone than they had been all day and they stopped at the fence of the Shrieking Shack.

“You ever been up there?” Scorpius asked. Rose shook her head.

“No, but my parents have. Apparently, it’s not actually haunted,” she said.

“How do you mean?”

“It’s a long story,” she said before taking a long pause. “Do you ever feel like there’s a lot of history here, this whole school, that we’ll just never fully understand?”

Scorpius looked at her, a bit taken aback by her question. The wind was blowing her wild auburn hair around as she held her gaze on the shack atop the hill. She felt so close and yet so far. Scorpius briefly lingered on just how different they were. For though they both belonged to the wizarding world, it sometimes felt like she was from a far-off planet. But in this question, some light was shed on what drew him to her, at least as much as a boy his age could comprehend.

“You have no idea,” Scorpius said in agreement, not knowing where to begin.

“I just feel like…my parents, my family, they did all these incredible things even when they were younger than us. Every year there was some great big mystery to solve, or some big task to deal with. Me, I just…sit in the library trying to get through Potions homework,” Rose said.

“You have high marks in everything, from what I’ve seen. You can give yourself a break, if you want,” Scorpius said. Rose looked down at the ground and visibly tensed some.

“My mum’s the Minister. Everyone, I mean everyone, goes on and on about how bright she is, all the amazing things she’s done,” she said before looking up at Scorpius. “Have you ever argued with your parents?”

Scorpius took stock of his memories. He had thrown tantrums as a young child, of course. He had argued about privileges and things such as that, but nothing beyond normal growing pains. The Malfoy household was rather quiet for the most part. Though he did recall the arguments his father would sometimes have with his grandfather and Scorpius’s parents did have disagreements every so often.

“Not really, no,” Scorpius said.

“You’re lucky,” she said.

He sighed. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I really wish I did argue with them. They can be weirdly secretive sometimes. Maybe if I argued, I’d actually get some straight answers...Why do you ask?”

Rose looked down again in shame. “My Potions marks last year weren’t great. I mean, I passed, and they were fine, but just…not up to my parents’ standards. My mum had a big talk with me about not letting Quidditch get in the way and tried to show me some study skills and I just…I yelled at her. I told her that maybe I didn’t want to spend all my years here locked up in the library like her.”

“That sounds like a fair thing to ask,” Scorpius said.

“I know, but she meant well, and I was meaner about it. And everyone, teachers and students, look at me like I’m supposed to be constantly achieving and I just…it’s a lot. That’s…that’s why I snapped at you the other day.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing for that,” he said.

“I know, but I’m still sorry.”

“You don’t have to be like your mum, y’know,” he said. “Not if you don’t want to."

“There’s still so much pressure to be like—”

“That pressure can go the other way too when you’re trying to not be like your parents,” Scorpius said. She looked up at him, brown eyes full of sympathy and face wearing an unsure expression.

“They aren’t…like that anymore, your parents. I mean, my mum sees yours on that committee all the time.”

“But they were. That’s all anyone seems to remember sometimes. Even the teachers. Sometimes I’ll catch Professor Longbottom looking at me like…I don’t know how to describe it; not hateful, but like he’s looking at the past that he doesn’t want to remember. Sorry, I sound mad, don’t I?” Scorpius said.

“No. It’s not mad. Not at all. Listen, I’m sorry about the Three Broomsticks. I promise it has nothing to do with what you’re saying now. It really is I don’t want any of my cousins reporting back to their parents and them to my parents and—”

“It’s fine, Rose, honestly,” Scorpius said. “Sorry, I went and made this all about me, didn’t I?”

“No! I’m glad you told me. I think we, Albus too, have more in common than it might look upon first glance,” she said.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said.

“I wonder what it’s like to be just a regular student sometimes. No parents with these big reputations, good or bad. Just normal people,” she said, smiling a little.

“Me too,” Scorpius said, looking out at the Shrieking Shack when an idea struck him. “Come on.” Scorpius approached the rickety old fence and climbed over it, turning back to extend his hand to Rose.

“What are you doing?”

“Let’s go get a closer look,” Scorpius said.

“That’s against the rules!”

“Exactly. Let’s let loose a little, just walk up to it, that’s all. I’ll take full blame if we get caught; Breaking rules runs in the family, after all.”

“I don’t know…”

“Didn’t your parents get up to all kinds of stuff like this?”

“Yes, but they had good reasons.”

“My parents thought so too. Enough about them. For now, you and I are just normal Hogwarts students getting up to normal trouble. I’m not Scorpius Malfoy, I’m…John Smith, a generic student and probably in Hufflepuff.”

Rose laughed. “That’s mean!”

“You know it’s a little bit true. Come on, I’ll help you over,” he said. Rose looked at him tentatively, seeing the sly smirk on Scorpius’s face. There was something a little dangerous in that smile that Rose found very tempting. She approached with a smile and extended her hand, allowing Scorpius to aid her climb over the fence. As soon as her feet touched the ground again she felt her heart beat with excitement and mischief. Scorpius took her gloved hand in his and gently coaxed her towards the shack.

They rushed up the hill, panting a little as they laughed to find the house completely boarded up with no hope of entry. Although a bit disappointed, to her surprise, Rose was still enjoying herself. Scorpius turned to her and held out his arms triumphantly.

“See, we can’t even get in! No harm done,” he said reassuringly. She was a bit stunned at how easy this was for him and at the same time was starting to see a side to Scorpius she had never noticed. He always seemed like he wanted to do his best to keep friendly with most everyone, carefully moving through his school years so as not to cause too many waves in an attempt to make up for his family’s reputation. Now he was smiling broadly, reveling in this small mischievous deviance as if he had just won a battle.

They sat down near the shack, hiding behind it lest any passersby see them from a distance and talked more. They talked about nothing, yet everything.

“…And my mum wants it to be this big thing. Like this huge celebration of peace and unity in the wizarding world or something, but it’s also a big holiday party,” Rose said. Scorpius laughed hard.

“My mother’s going to _hate_ that,” Scorpius said.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing against your mum, but sometimes…my mother comes home from those committee meetings and talks to my dad about all the silly plans and events they put on and they have a good laugh about it,” Scorpius tried to say it gently so as not to hurt Rose’s feelings, but to his surprise she laughed too.

“That’s hilarious! My mum’s is a terrible event planner and just takes things way too seriously. At least, if my mum actually manages to pull this Ministry holiday event or gala or whatever it is off, you’ll be there too and I’ll have someone to talk to,” Rose said. “I know it’s not the Yule Ball, like we talked about but—”

“Are you asking me on to go to a ball with you?” Scorpius asked. She blushed.

“I never said it was a ball—”

“I was just teasing. Whatever the case, whatever it is, I accept.”

They realized their allotted time to galivant around Hogsmeade was coming to an end and they rushed down the hill and back over the fence, after making sure the coast was clear, to get back to the castle. Rose was practically over the moon with pulling off some rule breaking, and Scorpius was just happy to see her spirits so eased. He found himself elated too and he felt fluttering in his gut thinking about seeing Rose at a big, yuletide event…

“There you are!”

Scorpius and Rose turned to see Albus trotting up to them.

“Where have you two been?!” Albus asked. Both Scorpius and Rose tried to stutter out answers to explain themselves and Albus wrinkled his face in disgust. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Sorry, Rose, I’m going to have to steal Scorpius.”

“You don’t own him,” Rose protested.

“Well, we’re nearly back and you’ll have to join the rest of your Gryffindor friends for dinner anyway,” Albus said. This was probably the first time in Scorpius’s life that he would rather spend time with someone other than Albus, but Rose rolled her eyes and relented before Scorpius could protest.

“Fine. Thanks, Scorpius,” she said kindly.

“Yeah, you too,” Scorpius said with a soft smile. He watched her turned to go and blushed a little as he did so.

“Gross,” Albus said, jarring Scorpius out of his trance.

“It wasn’t like that. Nothing happened—”

“I already told you I didn’t want to know. Come on, I have to show you something,” Albus said, yanking on Scorpius’s sleeve into the castle and then away from the other students.

“You’re not going to believe this. I’m a genius,” Albus said, reaching into his pocket and holding out a large piece of folded up parchment.

“…Parchment?” Scorpius asked. Albus rolled his eyes.

“No, it’s—Did I never tell you? Here let me show you.” Albus removed his wand and tapped it on the parchment. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Before Scorpius’s eyes, ink revealed itself on the parchment to his amazement. “ _The Marauder’s Map_?” he read aloud.

Albus nodded with a mischievous smile. James showed it to me after taking it out of my father’s desk years ago and I think my uncle taught him how to use it. Then he showed it to me, just to brag of course. But the Three Broomsticks was so crowded today, and he was too busy being all over Rebecca Wood that I managed to snatch it right out of his pocket, and he didn’t notice!”

“What’s it do?”

“It shows where everyone is. Look!” Albus said, unfolding the map. Scorpius watched as names moved about the drawn halls and rooms of Hogwarts castle. “We can use this next Hogsmeade weekend to not get caught.”

“Get caught?”

Albus leaned closer to Scorpius. “The Chamber of Secrets.”

Scorpius had been so distracted by his time with Rose that he had completely forgotten about their mission. All of the lightheartedness he had been feeling left him and he looked down at the floor.

Back in Wales, Valeria returned home to find her husband at work on his amateur study of dark artifacts deep in the bowels of their fortress-like home. They shared a loving embrace as Draco welcomed her home before cleaning up his work.

“How was this month’s meeting? Did Granger try to come up with slogans again? That was a good laugh,” Draco said, referring to Hermione Granger-Weasley’s lack of skill when it came to witty wordplay for the promotion of Ministry sponsored events, though he did not speak maliciously. Valeria bit her lip.

“Afraid not. We need to talk,” she said. Draco stopped what he was doing and turned, filled with anxiety.

“What’s happened?”

“It’s nothing to worry about, not really. It’s just…”

“Just say it, Val,” he said.

“The committee, my committee, is at Granger’s behest of course, putting on a gala over the Christmas holiday,” Valeria said.

“And why do you seem so dour about it? You’ve all put on other events before,” Draco said, folding his arms.

“Because this is supposed to celebrate the unification of the wizarding world, peace and all the other platitudes the Ministry puts out. They…they want us to say a few words…”

Draco visibly tensed and Valeria saw this coming. This was the part she was most hesitant to tell her husband.

“Which words?” Draco asked, fairly enough. Valeria bit her lower lip.

“Some things about switching to the other side, seeing the light and all that…” Valeria said.

“Valeria…”

“I know.”

“We never switched—”

“Didn’t we?”

“We had a death sentence on our heads. We were seventeen years old! We were children!”

“That’s not what they’re asking. They’re asking us to talk about the present.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Draco…”

“I’ll handle this."

“Draco!”

“I’ll talk to her myself.”

“Let’s at least discuss it,” Valeria said.

“We’ll discuss it. Thoroughly. But I will not stand in front of the entire wizarding world and shame ourselves,” Draco insisted.

“Is it shame?”

“You know what I mean,” Draco said.

“If we ever want to have a place in this world, a place for our son, we need to abide by their—”

“Still concerned about reputation?”

“What else is there, Draco?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been gone so long! I am dedicated, I promise. I needed a break after doing a lot with this and IRL commitments got in the way. I'm still updating and planning. I also edited, to the best of my ability, every chapter of every previous installment in this whole series. Thank you for sticking with me and clicking on this. Much appreciated. Stay well, stay safe.


	9. The Haunting Past

_Draco was exhausted when he stepped through the wrought iron gates of Malfoy Manor on a chilly, blustery evening in early winter. He almost didn’t answer his father’s summons, feeling a great weight of unnecessary guilt of leaving his wife to attend to their infant son alone, but the letter was demanding, urgent. It was difficult to know with Lucius whether or not there was truly an emergency or not._

_“You can always just leave,” Valeria told him when Draco expressed his apprehension. He suspected she didn’t appreciate the demanding of Draco’s presence at Malfoy Manor either but wasn’t going to forbid it. She too was quite tired from the demands of caring for an infant on top of what the ordeal of pregnancy and childbirth put her body through. Draco repeated her words in his mind like a mantra as he looked up at his massive childhood home and walked the path to the front doors._

_Ghostly whispers of memory flooded his mind, as they always did when he visited Malfoy Manor. Mundane and happy memories coupled diametrically with the dark and painful ones. Too much had happened here. Too much had been tainted and corrupted and Draco felt bitterness tighten around his heart like a stranglehold. He glanced to his right in the entrance hall, lined with portraits of long deceased relatives and ancestors, but his gaze landed upon the portrait of him and his wife, painted when they were seventeen years old. A stern sophistication was clear in the poses and expressions of their painted likenesses. They were everything a proud, traditional pureblood should be on the surface. Draco despised that portrait._

_He was jarred from his wallowing when Lucius entered the hall and greeted Draco with a masculine sort of embrace._

_“Your mother is in France, visiting friends. I thought this would be the right time for you and me to talk,” Lucius said, leading the way to the drawing room. Draco’s interest piqued a little at that. He doubted his mother knew of this visit, otherwise she would have come straight home to see him too. She had, according to her correspondence, been spending a great deal of time away from Lucius in France as of late, which also made Draco suspicious, but not enough to ask. Sometimes it was better not to know, and his own family took up too much of his attention._

_“Can I ask what this is about? Your letter was cryptic,” Draco asked._

_“Do I need a reason to want to visit with my son?” Lucius said. Draco didn’t pry any further, rolling his eyes when his father wasn’t looking. They settled in the drawing room and Draco was immediately uncomfortable. He hated that room and all the death and horror he had witnessed within. Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw Lord Voldemort standing in a dark corner, but that was merely a figment of his troubled imagination._

_Lucius poured drinks from of an elegant glass bottle for both himself and Draco, taking a seat in the plush armchair beside his son before the fire. Draco didn’t like being so close to fireplaces. He hated getting lost in the dancing flames. Sometimes, if he looked into flames too long, he would hear in his head Crabbe’s fearful scream just before he disappeared in the Room of Hidden Things._

_“Tell me, how’s fatherhood treating you?” Lucius asked._

_“Valeria and I are adjusting,” Draco said. He did not share with his father that it was the greatest joy of his life to witness Scorpius’s birth. He did not mention how he had fallen hopelessly head-over-heels in love with his own little family when he held his son in his arms for the first time. He did not show how scared shitless he was of messing it all up._

_Lucius smiled to himself, swirling his drink in his glass. “Yes, I remember those days.” Draco looked at his father, who looked just as haggard as he did during the war. The relative isolation Draco had chosen in the years following the Battle of Hogwarts had suited him, but his father had been so used to power and influencing the wizarding world that Draco could see plainly just how much living a private life impacted him. “Fatherhood is the greatest thing a man can achieve, but it is also his gravest responsibility.”_

_For once, Draco somewhat agreed, but he suspected not in the way Lucius meant. “It’s quite daunting,” Draco admitted._

_“Yes. My father told me the same thing when you were born. He said, ‘Lucius, that boy is not only your legacy, but the legacy of every Malfoy before him. Do right by our name.’ Wise words, indeed,” Lucius said. Draco gripped his glass. Scorpius was his son first, his heir second, not that Draco particularly cared about that second part anymore. “I’m proud of you for finally realizing your duty. I was worried the name would die out with you.”_

_“To be honest, we didn’t exactly plan it. We weren’t thinking about it in those terms,” Draco said, choosing his words carefully. Lucius furrowed his brow at Draco, expressing disappointment._

_“You must. It is your duty to teach him, Draco. Teach him our ways, our values, our traditions. He must be prepared enough to face his future in honor of all that we believe in and ready to fight for it,” Lucius said. Draco was getting more restless and consumed with bitterness as he bit the inside of his lip. He looked away from his father, trying to avoid glaring at him with disdain. He involuntarily recalled every time Lucius let him down, particularly when it came to his arranged marriage. How Lucius cowered, failing to even speak half a sentence of protest, forcing a responsibility on a seventeen-year-old boy who could not possibly live up to it. The moment Draco needed a father to protect him the most, the man retreated into a hollow shell of who he once was._

_“The war is over, father. The Dark Lord is gone,” Draco said, still fearing saying Voldemort’s name aloud a little. Draco looked over at the other armchairs, two more were nearby. On the table beside Lucius’s chair sat two more clean, empty glasses next to the bottle._

_“But all is not lost,” Lucius said through his teeth. “There were other pureblood movements before and there will be more again. If you do well, if you raise him right—And it must be you for I am concerned your wife cannot be fully trusted—perhaps Scorpius can be one of those who leads the—”_

_Draco heard enough. He slammed his glass on the little table between them and went to the door._

_“Draco!” Lucius said in an angered, scolding tone, as if Draco were still a child. Draco turned on his heels._

_“Valeria and I will decide on how to raise **our** son!” Draco said, every bit the spiteful young man he had been in his teenage years. “I will not raise him to believe he has to live up to any legacy, any bloodline! And I refuse to allow him to believe that anything that happened was in any way right!” _

_Lucius’s expression was twisted in disgust. “I will not stand to have a blood traitor disgracing our family—”_

_“Disgrace?! And what do you call this, father?” Draco said, gesturing toward Lucius. “You may get to sit here and hide for the rest of your life, but my son is the one who must live with the disgrace you made of the Malfoy name. I will do whatever I have to do so that he can live in the new world and not in the mess you made of the old one,” Draco said, unleashing his wrath on his father. To Draco’s surprise, Lucius eyed him coldly._

_“What about the messes you made, Draco?” Lucius asked cruelly. Draco’s throat went dry to hear his father’s words and he was trembling with rage. He turned swiftly and marched toward the door, but it swung open in front of him and he was met with the only slightly aged faces of his old school fellows, Theodore Nott and Gregory Goyle. Draco stepped back in shock._

_“Nott, Goyle,” Lucius greeted. “Thank you both for coming.”_

_“Are we interrupting something?” Nott asked._

_“Not at all,” Lucius lied. “Please, have a seat. Draco.”_

_Draco was rooted to the spot as his old friends moved past him to join Lucius. Absolutely bewildered, he had the urge to leave at once. But there was a sinking suspicion in his gut that he could not ignore. He needed to know what this was about, if only to keep his family safe from…whatever this was. Draco silently sat back down in his original chair._

_“Congratulations on Scorpius, Draco,” Nott said as Lucius poured him a drink. “How’s Valeria doing?”_

_“They’re both well, thank you,” Draco said politely. Draco was a bit heartbroken to see Nott here. He had always liked Theodore. Goyle said nothing, which was all the same to Draco, but he could sense Goyle’s resentment._

_“I’ve reached out to Nott and Goyle to discuss the future of our world, Draco. Troubling things over at the Ministry have been happening to erase us, our ways, entirely and so some of us have been working towards setting our differences aside in order to combat these threats,” Lucius said. Draco was not so brave as to call bullshit aloud. Lucius had implicated Goyle’s father as a Death Eater, landing the man in Azkaban. Nott’s own father died in the Battle of Hogwarts at the hands of one of the aurors, though Draco did not yet know which one. Goyle especially had every reason to despise the Malfoys._

_“I’m curious on how you propose we do that, Mr. Malfoy,” Nott said. “With most of the former Death Eaters on the run or in prison, our numbers are too few.”_

_Draco eyed Nott. Nott was never properly a Death Eater. Draco was the only one of their age to achieve that. He had no business using words like “our.”_

_“It’s only a matter of time,” Lucius said. “The others will find each other and be stronger for it. As for us, we can start by undermining the Ministry. Funds will help surely, but there might room for direct action in some cases, particularly at Potter and his overzealous league of aurors—”_

_Draco had heard enough once more. He rose again for the final time and marched to the door without a word. Lucius called after him, but as Draco exited the drawing room, it was Nott who caught up with him._

_“Malfoy—” Nott said, reaching out for Draco’s shoulder. Draco wheeled around to face him._

_“What the hell is this, Nott?” Draco said, unable to hold it in any longer._

_“I’m not exactly happy about the possibility of working with your father either,” Nott said. “But something has to be done. The Ministry…they’re tearing it all apart. And I…well, I believe I’m owed a bit of vengeance for my father.”_

_“Nott, it’s over. It’s done,” Draco said._

_“Not while people like us still draw breath,” Nott said, glancing down at Draco’s left arm._

_“What about Tracey? What does she have to say about this?” Draco asked, trying to appeal to something Nott still cared for._

_“She doesn’t know yet. We’re only beginning talks, Malfoy. Nothing has happened yet,” Nott said._

_“I’ll have no part of this. My family—”_

_“But that’s exactly why you should be on our side. Don’t you want your son to have what we had? You can help resecure his position, which is his right.” Draco could not believe what he was hearing from Nott of all people, who always kept his cards close and wasn’t one to involve himself in anything messy, for the most part. Meeting eyes with his old friend though, Draco saw the loathing and hatred that he recognized in his own wife when it came to the deaths of her father and brother. He understood. This was about revenge for Nott more than anything else and the bitterness of having it all stripped away from him. It was a rationale Draco could understand, but not act upon. “Do it for your family. For Valeria and Scorpius. You need to protect them.”_

_“I am protecting my family,” Draco said._

_He marched off without a word. Draco did not turn back, keeping his gaze firmly forward and resolute until he apparated back to the quiet castle in Wales. He made his way up the nursery in something of a frenzy wanting only to see Valeria and his son. She smiled at him as he burst into the room, holding their sleeping son in her arms._

_“How’d it go?” she asked._

_Draco clammed up. His mind still reeling. “Just spouting nonsense on how to raise Scorpius. I left early.”_

_Thankfully, she did not pry further. He didn’t have the heart to tell her yet. He was ashamed, but he wanted to keep her out of it, she had enough on her mind as it was. Reopening old wounds would not serve her, especially seeing as the Dark Lord’s former supporters were scattered or otherwise powerless now. He doubted whatever plot his father could manage to scheme would go nowhere fast in the new world. Valeria approached Draco and carefully handled the bundle in her arms to him and Draco felt his heart flutter a little as Scorpius stirred, curling up into him as Draco brought him close to his chest._

_“I think he missed you,” Valeria whispered._

Draco was tired as he made his way through the hustle and bustle at the Ministry, but his exhaustion did nothing to quell his prickled determination. He and Valeria had been up late, arguing. Unlike in their youthful years, they hardly argued beyond small disagreements that were over within a few minutes. Their tumultuous teenage years had, for the most part, settled the more combative aspects of their respective natures.

But Draco would not relent on this.

“Do you have an appointment, sir?” a young woman, who could not be more than two years out of school, asked Draco shyly as she sat behind at her desk. The office of the Minister was ornate and stately, complete with an area for a glorified secretary to manage the Minister’s day-to-day business.

“Tell her that Draco Malfoy has urgent business,” Draco quietly commanded.

“I’m sorry, she’s in another meeting right now. You’ll have to wait or I could schedule an appointment for you,” the young woman replied. Draco sighed.

“Thank you,” he said, but he moved past the desk and towards the door to the Minister’s office.

“Sir, you can’t go in there!” The young woman called out, rising from her seat. Draco did not listen nor did he look back as he reached for the knob and opened the door. Sat behind a heavy wooden desk was Hermione Granger-Weasley, quite obviously in a meeting with another Ministry official. Both of them turned to stare blankly at him in surprise as the secretary caught up to him.

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to leave or I’ll have to call security. I’m sorry, Minister, he just barged right past me—”

“It’s alright, Dana,” Hermione said. “Is this an emergency, Malfoy?”

“It’s urgent, in my opinion at least,” Draco said.

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait,” Hermione replied.

“If I do recall correctly, Madam Minister, I donate substantially each year to the fund that grants disadvantaged students funds for new school supplies. Perhaps it’s time I revisit that decision,” Draco said, closely resembling his own father in manner and tone. Lucius had taught him a thing or two, after all. Hermione gave Draco a dark look, borderline disgusted, but sighed.

“We’ll finish this later, Morton. I’m sorry,” Hermione said. The Ministry official was disgruntled, perhaps a bit offended, but did not argue as he made his exit, flashing Draco a dirty look as he left behind the secretary. Hermione leaned back in her tall chair and sighed as Draco stepped forward. He did not have a seat. “That was low, Malfoy.”

“It got your attention, didn’t it?”

“What can I do for you, Malfoy?”

“I’d like to address the matter of the holiday part you’re planning, particularly where my family is concerned,” he said.

“It’s not a party. We’re calling it the Unification Gala and all it is meant to be is a celebration of peace and unity amongst the wizarding community. I’m sure Valeria thoroughly explained—”

“She did. Especially the part of the evening where we were invited to speak about our…experiences,” Draco replied bitterly. “Why us?”

“You and Valeria have a unique perspective. And with all the things that are happening, dark magic cropping up more frequently, it would help people to hear from people who turned away from it—”

“What dark incidents are you referring too?” Draco asked, interest piqued.

“I can’t discuss active investigations.”

“Then why bring it up at all?” Draco asked through his teeth.

“Listen, I’m not trying to put you into an awkward position. I just asked because I thought it could be mutually beneficial. Valeria seemed amenable to the idea.”

“She sees it as an opportunity. We disagree,” Draco said flatly. Valeria was, after all, still a Winters. Still almost instinctively concerned about her reputation and easily tempted, to Draco’s mind, by any chance to improve it. Despite the quiet life they had resigned themselves to, Valeria was still who she was; calculating and opportunistic.

“Maybe she’s right,” Hermione said, exacerbated by this petty argument with Draco Malfoy of all people. “Perhaps if you actually shared a little of what the both of you went through with the world, there’d be less…suspicion—”

“Do not speak to me as if you know what we went through,” Draco said with a dark sneer. “We were…children. Child soldiers—”

“We _all_ were, Malfoy,” Hermione said. The two exchanged a painful, knowing look, bordering on mutual sympathy before Draco shook himself out of such thoughts.

“You need to understand that I am obligated to protect my family. I don’t care what story you’re trying to spin or what political stunts the Ministry puts on. But we will not be used as Ministry props. Not again,” Draco said, quieter, trying to banish the propagandistic campaign that he and Valeria were once the poster children for; _Maintain Pure Bloodlines. Pair Off Young. Follow the Malfoy Example._

“It’s nothing like that.”

“Not in front of the world. Not in front of my son.”

“And Valeria? You think it wise to try and stop her if she has her mind made up?”

“We don’t act without being on the same page, Granger. She won’t make unilateral decisions.”

“That’s not how I remember either of you.”

Scorpius was exhausted too, though for entirely different reasons. The first match, Slytherin vs. Gryffindor was approaching in the coming weeks and Bulstrode had been working the Slytherin team hard in practices as often as humanly possible. His muscles ached so much that he was trying not to limp through the halls to get to his classes. Scorpius was starting to feel the stress that he believed Rose had been feeling since she first began at Hogwarts. Between Quidditch, his coursework and desperately trying to come up with a plan for his secret mission with Albus, Scorpius was starting to feel the weight of it all.

Albus too was in a pretty sour mood one afternoon, just as sore in the body as Scorpius was, but something was particularly off with him today. Albus brushed Scorpius off when the latter asked about the matter and Scorpius figured he must have an argument with Fiona or something else. Albus was prone to moodiness at times, but his bad moods never lasted too long.

Scorpius was about to learn today was different.

“We have a special guest today,” Professor Goldstein said with pride as Albus and Scorpius, the last to file into the room, took their seats in the back. Scorpius looked up after settling to see none other than Harry Potter smiling politely at all the class.

“Did you know he was coming? Why didn’t you say anything?” Scorpius whispered to Albus, who was looking down at the desk.

“I was hoping he’d cancel last minute,” Albus said.

“Please give Mr. Potter your full and undivided attention!” Goldstein concluded after properly introducing Harry for a question and answer session, of sorts. Many hands shot up to ask the famous man questions.

“What’s the strongest spell we can learn to use in defense?” a student asked.

“Well, it depends on who your opponent is. I always say that these spells are ones you’ll hopefully never have to use. But I think that, while it’s important to practice and know your stuff, having people to look out for you and who are there for you no matter what…that’s the most important thing. That’s what gives you the most strength,” Harry responded.

“What’s the best advice you know for learning and using spells?” another student asked.

“Frankly, never cast a spell when you don’t know what it does,” Harry said with a laugh. But his face quickly fell when his gaze landed on Scorpius. “You run the risk of…really hurting someone.”

“Mr. Potter, I’m not very good at defensive magic…do you have to be talented at birth or—?” a shy student asked.

“No, not all. To be honest, a lot of it is just luck and having the right people at your side. Other than that, just takes some practice. You’ll get there if you stick with it.”

“Doesn’t look like the talent is genetic…” Clarence Boot muttered to his friend, just loud enough for Albus and Scorpius to hear, who sat behind him.

“Shut up, Boot!” Albus exclaimed before Scorpius could try to stop him. The whole class stopped and turned and Albus flushed bright pink when his eyes met his father’s.

“Everything alright, son?” Harry asked.

Albus clammed up. “Fine.”

Albus hardly talked the rest of the school day and quietly disappeared after their final class. Apparently, Harry Potter was making a whole day of his visit to Hogwarts, spending time with old teachers and school fellows of his.

“Have you seen Albus?” Scorpius asked Rose part-way through dinner when Albus had yet to show up.

“I saw him in the corridor going to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Seems like he’s in a really bad mood…” Rose said. Scorpius decided that it was time to go check on his friend and made haste back to the classroom. He stopped short when he heard voices from within.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you…” Harry Potter said.

“Well you did and now I have to deal with it!” Albus said back. “I get reminded every day how I’m not like you and so I don’t need you coming here and rubbing it more in my face!”

“Where is this coming from Albus?”

“You’re always going on about how Hogwarts was the best thing that ever happened to you and so I’m sorry that I want to make my own and be my own person and not just Harry Potter’s son! I can’t do that when you show up here and have make a big show in front of everyone.”

“It was a question and answer session, not a big show. What’s gotten into you?” Harry asked before pausing. “Did Scorpius say something to you?”

Scorpius’s heart sank as he stood outside the classroom door, shamefully eavesdropping. Harry Potter had been a hero of his childhood. He had heard and read all about his adventures, interrogated his parents over how cool it must have been to go to school in the same year as the Boy Who Lived. To hear his childhood hero speak doubtfully of him, cut Scorpius’s sensitive nature somewhere deep. To his shame, he had to fight back a tear or two.

“What?! No!”

“You’ve been acting strangely ever since you visited them over the summer. I have nothing against the boy, but—”

“You obviously do.”

“Albus, I knew his parents. His father especially…Where they come from, what they were like, what happened—”

“I know his dad was a Death Eater! And maybe if people like you didn’t judge their whole family, they’d actually go out once in a while!”

“You don’t understand—”

“I do understand! I understand that Scorpius is no more like his dad than I am mine!”

“That was uncalled for,” Harry said, sounding quite hurt.

“Scorpius is my friend and he will stay that way and I will always defend him. In Slytherin, we look after our own” Albus insisted.

“I don’t have anything against the Malfoys anymore, I just want you to be careful around them and—”

“Other than being uptight weirdos, Scorpius’s parents were perfectly fine to me! Voldemort’s gone, the Malfoys aren’t Death Eaters and Scorpius is my best friend in this entire school! The rest of the world moved on, why can’t you!?” 

“Don’t talk to me like that, Albus!”

“Then go! Just say your goodbyes and go!” Albus shouted. Harry called after his son as Scorpius heard furious footsteps marching towards the door. There was no time for Scorpius to properly hide himself and all he could do was step quickly away from the door. Albus burst out, still full of resentment and anger, but stopped short once he saw Scorpius. Before Albus could say anything, Harry had caught up with his son and too stopped upon noticing Scorpius. Unbeknownst to the boy, Harry felt sixteen again and felt as though he was looking at his childhood rival. Looking at Scorpius now, Harry could not help but vividly recall Draco bloodied on the bathroom floor by way of Harry’s curse. How Valeria held Draco’s head out of the water and wept, screaming at Harry, begging him to do something. Some wounds just didn’t heal.

“Sorry…I—Albus, you weren’t at dinner and Rose said you might be up here. I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Scorpius managed to stutter out. Albus shot his father a dirty look before going to Scorpius and grabbing him by the upper sleeve of his robes before Harry could say anything.

“Let’s get out of here,” Albus said to his friend and Scorpius didn’t argue. The common room was still empty, dinner having not quite finished yet, when the two boys arrived. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” Scorpius replied softly, averting his gaze.

“Don’t listen to anything he says; not one damn word. He’s wrong about all of it,” Albus said.

“Does he…does he really think I’m like my father?” Scorpius asked nervously.

“How could he? He doesn’t even know you and I’d reckon he doesn’t know your dad well either, no matter what he claims,” Albus said. Albus looked sadly at Scorpius, who he had hardly ever seen so downcast and sullen, other than at his grandmother’s funeral.

“The fact that Harry Potter thinks so poorly of me–”

“He’s just a guy. He says it himself all the time. He’s not some big hero like Dumbledore, things just happened to him and he had a lot of help along the way. He’s just a guy.”

“Did you mean it when you said that we’re not like our fathers?” Scorpius asked.

“Absolutely. And we never will be,” Albus insisted.

It took some time for Scorpius’s spirits to lift again, but he was grateful for Albus taking time to be there for him in the most mundane ways. He started to feel normal again as the days turned to weeks and Quidditch practically dominated his life. Only late at night while trying to fall asleep did Scorpius think hard about his family and by extension, who he himself was as their son. He wanted to ask after the true depths of their sins and crimes. Why did they make those choices? Who were they all those years ago? Who were they before Voldemort? What were they keeping from him? Why were they guarding these secrets close?

He imagined scenarios where he confronted his parents and they never went well. At best, his parents brushed him off once again. At worst, they scolded him and sent him to his room in anger. His mother was so poised, so careful in how she acted in everything, that he doubted she’d let a single clue slip. Scorpius thought too of his father. If he did not physically resemble Draco Malfoy so uncannily, Scorpius might have been inclined to believe he was another man’s son, considering just how different they seemed to be. Despite fond memories and despite knowing he could ask anything of his father and not be denied, Scorpius often felt his father felt far away. There were parts of the man that Draco did everything he could not to reveal. Only Scorpius’s mother truly knew him, it seemed.

But such discoveries would have to wait for there was too much going on in Scorpius’s life to consider confronting his parents. They had sent him a package of treats and well wishes to soothe Scorpius’s nerves before his first match. His father especially wrote with extreme pride in his son, which Scorpius appreciated very much. Albus hardly seemed at all nervous, mainly chomping at the bit, staring James down across the Great Hall the day of the match; Bound and determined to win.

“Good luck, just not too much,” Rose said with a little wink to Albus and Scorpius that morning. Scorpius laughed, but the comment seemed to get to Albus a little, vowing to make mincemeat of the Gryffindor team on the pitch. Scorpius’s nerves soothed with all the support from his house. Slytherin could always be counted upon to unite under the mission of winning against Gryffindor. There was an energy and excitement Scorpius had hardly ever felt when he took his place on the pitch.

Gryffindor was a difficult opponent, and there were several points where Scorpius feared that Bulstrode had underestimated their capabilities. As the match dragged on, Scorpius had never felt so determined and eager. He was light of heart, feeling like he was on top of the world as he flew through the air on the broom that he treasured. This feeling only left him, and was replaced by an unbridled euphoria, when his hand wrapped around the snitch and Slytherin won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow chapter, I'm sorry. Thanks for your patience with me and for the comments and kudos!


	10. Carpe Noctem

_It was Valeria’s turn to worry. For years Draco and Valeria would discuss what to do about Scorpius’s education and while Draco was quite open to other options, Valeria insisted he attend Hogwarts. She knew Scorpius would be crushed if he did not get to go to Hogwarts, despite what Draco thought._

_“Why are you so attached to sending him to Hogwarts? Since when were you so fond of the place?” Draco asked with no judgment, merely curious. It was true that Valeria’s opinion of the school differed from many of her former peers. In the early years she was largely indifferent to it. Surely, there was fun and excitement, and she had a grand time with friends and learning, but it was still merely school. It was just normal._

_However, as Draco knew and felt too, her final years at school had corrupted her feelings towards Hogwarts. The school was no refuge, no hallowed hall of knowledge, and even her fonder memories were steeped in some amount of pain to recall. She didn’t quite know how to answer her husband’s question, perhaps not knowing the truth herself._

_“It’s important to him and of course it’s tradition,” she replied. Perhaps somewhere in her heart of hearts she hoped she could somehow reclaim better memories of her youth through her son having a positive experience of Hogwarts. It was a bit selfish on her part, to her shame, but so long as Scorpius was happy, that was all the mattered in the end. But now, the morning of Scorpius’s departure for his first year, she was filled with anxiety towards the unknown. She triple checked Scorpius’s luggage, comparing what was packed with a long list once more. Reluctantly, she heeded Draco’s warning that they needed to get going, lest they fall behind schedule._

_“If he forgets something, we’ll send it to him. There’s no reason to worry,” Draco reassured her as they departed. Valeria was grateful that Draco was far more relaxed about this than she expected, even if it was only for her sake. Scorpius was buzzing with a nervous excitement that Valeria found incredibly endearing. Both the elder Malfoys were nervous to a degree, having hardly ventured out of their secluded home and avoiding busy places to the best of their ability when they did._

_But the crowd was unavoidable today, as were the stares, few and subtle as they were. The Malfoys were quite recognizable of course and though they tried to hide it, some people noticeably lingered their gaze on the scar marking Valeria’s face. Scorpius hated when he caught people staring at his mother like that, though not as much as Draco did. Draco linked arms with Valeria, pulling her a little closer as they moved side-by-side through the crowd. They stopped on the platform and Scorpius looked up, mesmerized by the gleaming Hogwarts Express._

_“Look who’s here,” Valeria whispered to Draco, nodding inconspicuously down the platform. Draco looked up to see a sea of red hair, the Weasleys and their relations of course. He accidentally locked eyes with Harry Potter, who he hadn’t seen in the flesh in many years and gave him a quick, though not exactly friendly, nod._

_“If that clan doesn’t stop breeding there’s going to be Weasleys here every year until the end of time…” Draco said, trying to joke, under his breath. Valeria laughed a little and playfully scolded him with a nudge of her elbow._

_“They were fruitful and multiplied…” Valeria muttered under her breath._

_“Malfoys.”_

_Draco and Valeria turned to the greeting to see Lionel Harper and Pansy Parkinson approaching with their dark-haired son Norman, who was already scowling. The Malfoys greeted their old friends, more acquaintances now, both somewhat relieved to see more familiar faces here._

_“You look more like your dad every time I see you, Scorpius,” Lionel said, trying to be friendly. Scorpius smiled. “Except for that. That smirk is all your mum’s.” Valeria could have easily made a similar comment of just how much Norman resembled Pansy but was interrupted by the timely approach of Daphne and Blaise Zabini with their daughter Fiona in tow. Daphne and Valeria hugged warmly, and their respective partners shook hands firmly. The children huddled together and began chatting wildly about the journey they were about to embark on._

_“It’s odd. Being back here,” Daphne mused. Valeria agreed. She hadn’t been to the platform since her seventh year, going back for the Easter holiday that would prove to change the course of the war for her._

_“It’s a bit inspiring to see it through their eyes, though,” Valeria said._

_“I don’t know what we’re going to do with ourselves all year now,” Draco said._

_“Maybe leave the house,” Blaise said._

_“Blaise…” Daphne scolded._

_“We were just at yours for dinner three weeks ago,” Valeria said._

_“I’m just trying to help,” Blaise said. He looked at Draco with something resembling a sympathetic look. “It’s been nearly two decades, is all I’m saying. No one even thinks about all that nonsense anymore.”_

_Valeria and Draco didn’t have to ask to what Blaise was referring. The Malfoys shared a quick look with each other, knowing Blaise was correct, and yet the war was still quite fresh with the both of them. The train’s whistle blew, signaling that it was time to begin boarding. Torn from her conflicting thoughts about the past, Valeria immediately went to her son. She used her wand to fix his hair. Again._

_“Stop fussing, Val,” Draco said with a little laugh._

_“Good impressions start with appearance,” Valeria said._

_“You sound like your mother,” Draco replied._

_“Maybe she’s right about a couple of things,” Valeria said. Draco scoffed._

_“Do you think I’ll make a good impression?” Scorpius asked nervously._

_“Of course, you will,” Draco reassured._

_“How could you not? You’re adorable,” Valeria said._

_“Don’t embarrass him,” Draco said, holding back a laugh. Overwhelmed by the sentimentality of the bittersweet moment, Valeria embraced her son hard._

_“Remember; Put your best foot forward with everyone,” Valeria advised._

_“But if you run to trouble, go for the throat,” Draco said, mildly joking._

_“Draco!” Valeria hissed scolding her husband._

_Scorpius laughed. “I will. I promise.”_

_“Make us proud, son. Slytherin is going to be lucky to have you,” Draco said._

_“What if I’m not in Slytherin? What if I get put into Hufflepuff?” Scorpius asked._

_“Then we’ll pull you out and send you to Durmstrang,” Draco joked, receiving another chiding from Valeria. After reassuring Scorpius one last time and waving to the train as it departed King’s Cross, Draco put an arm around his tearful wife._

_“Do you think he’ll be alright?” she asked quietly._

_“Without a doubt.”_

Scorpius stood by the window in the deserted common room late one chilly, late November night. He was captivated with the greenish glow of the Black Lake just outside, watching the water as it slowly moved about behind the glass. The common room was a sort of home away from home and its history radiated off every surface and from every wall. Both the greatest and the darkest of Slytherin’s history spent countless hours here. What plots had been hatched in this very room that shaped the wizarding world? What great personal discoveries had been made where he now stood? What secrets were shut away forever in the long, lonely nights such as this?

Scorpius was not surprised to be sorted into Slytherin. Though he had been nervous, the Sorting Hat’s decision of him affirmed what he already knew about himself and his heritage. In this room, he was surrounded by the history of this house, but also his own. The generations of Malfoys and Winters all sorted here and all leading up to now, to him. Scorpius liked to believe that Slytherin possessed a dualistic nature, one that he felt within himself. A fluid duality that was at once self-serving, but unfalteringly loyal. Traditional and yet constantly in pursuit of cunning innovation. Something that simultaneously was both pragmatic, but deeply sentimental; It had been said that a Slytherin would gladly let the world burn to save the one thing they valued the most.

These dualities ever in conflict, rose up in his mind now as he awaited Albus. Scorpius desperately desired to be normal, unremarkable and therefore welcomed by others with open, unsuspicious arms with no family name to weigh him down. But he was equally filled with a determination to be known, to make his own mark on the world and abscond the baggage the name he bore had saddled him with. This was precisely why, he concluded, that the boys’ mission to reopen the Chamber of Secrets tonight was troubling him so deeply, aside from the potential expulsion if they were to be caught. He wanted to discover, to do some good if he could, but he also wanted to follow his mother’s advice and not go out of his way to cause trouble, for his own sake.

He remembered well the Sorting Hat’s song the night he was sorted,

_You have patiently heard my tale of our founders of yore_

_And the time has come to sort you into a house, one of four._

_If it is knowledge you seek, a place in Ravenclaw you’ve earned._

_No page left unturned, no spell left unlearned._

_If you possess a spirited heart, Gryffindor is where you’ll make your mark._

_The bold shall prosper and illuminate the dark._

_If you favor bonds and perseverance, then in Hufflepuff these years you’ll spend._

_The wisest know a wizard is nothing without his friends._

_If greatness is your desire, then in its for Slytherin you should strive._

_For such roots run deep where ambition thrives._

Nothing good ever came from opening the Chamber of Secrets, that much he did know. Maybe this time, he could change that.

“You alright?”

Scorpius was startled. He hadn’t heard Albus descend the stairs after being so lost in thought. Scorpius nodded in the affirmative.

“Got everything then?” Albus asked.

“Think so,” Scorpius responded. Slung on his shoulder was a heavy bag containing all the supplies he could think to bring, including the books containing what little information he could scrounge on how to go about his task. In his hand, he gripped his broom, Albus having only recently mentioned that flying would be the only way out of the Chamber once inside. Albus had his own broom as well as the map he had stolen from his brother. He said the words to reveal its contents and scanned it.

“Looks like the path is clear. Everyone is all tired out after the Hogsmeade trip, so it’s now or wait until next time. We should get moving,” Albus said.

“Lead the way.”

Scorpius followed Albus out of the common room and they ascended up through the dungeons, minding their steps carefully. They walked slowly as to keep quiet and dared not speak. Scorpius kept a look out while Albus had his eyes glued to the map. Fortunately, they only had to reach the second floor, according to Albus. Scorpius exhaled a deep sigh of relief once they were safe inside. Albus wore a triumphant smile and was likely about to gloat when they were interrupted.

“It’s you…? You both…You came back!”

They both turned to see a stout ghost of a girl floating toward them with an astonished look on her face and Scorpius immediately realized who it was. He had been warned by older students about Moaning Myrtle. But her assertion confused both boys. Scorpius had never interacted with her before and neither had Albus, to his knowledge.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Scorpius said, trying to be polite so as not to set her off. This, naturally, did not work as she immediately scowled at him in offense.

“Why would you come back if you were just going to lie? And why are you with him? He tried to kill you?” Myrtle said, pointing a ghostly finger at Albus who was particularly shocked to learn of an attempted murder he had not to his memory committed.

“I swear, we’ve never seen you before. Maybe you have us confused with someone else,” Scorpius said.

Myrtle scoffed. “I’d know that hair anywhere. And Harry, you ought to be ashamed of yourself—!”

“Harry Potter? You think I’m Harry Potter?” Albus said.

“Well, who else would you be?! You’re just here to play a joke on me aren’t you!?” Myrtle cried. Scorpius looked at Albus, not knowing what to do, a wailing ghost who didn’t seem to understand how much time had passed was the last thing they needed.

“I’m not Harry Potter, I’m his son. Albus. My dad hasn’t been a student here in like twenty years,” Albus said. Myrtle stopped and eyed Albus, looking him up and down, seeming to arrive at a realization. She turned on Scorpius.

“Then who are you? You look just like that boy who’d visit me…”

“Scorpius Malfoy. Erm…maybe you’re thinking of my dad too. He’s the only person I can think of who looks like me,” Scorpius said. Myrtle stared at him for a few moments.

“I see…Yes, you have different eyes. If you’re his son that means…Is he still with that girl?!” she said bitterly.

“What girl?” Scorpius asked.

“That girl! The girl he did so much for and was never grateful! He’d come here and he’d cry about her and all the people who were being awful to him! Then Harry almost killed him!”

“What…?” Albus asked.

“It’s true, I saw it! Then he, the blond one, he had to _marry_ that girl. He was forced to, he told me!”

Scorpius was floored. He had never heard anything about any of this from his parents. The thought of his father crying, whether as a teenager or an adult, was impossible for him to even imagine. He too knew that his father was completely devoted to his mother, that much was clear. He could think of no sign of his parents being forced to be together in any way, shape or form. Albus too, seemed just as confused as Scorpius was.

“That’s not possible—”

“And he promised he’d come back and visit me, but he never did. Maybe those two deserve each other!” She said with a huff.

“Myrtle, I’m sorry that his dad—” Albus started.

“Harry never came back either!” she said.

“Fine. I’m sorry that our dads didn’t come back, but we’re here now!” Albus said, trying to sound cheerful. Scorpius shot him a warning look. Making promises to an unstable ghost was a really bad idea. “And, we’ll probably have to come back here more in the future too!”

Myrtle tilted her head. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”

Albus stepped forward. “My dad, back when he was a student, he found a secret passage in this bathroom and we need to get in again. Can you tell us where we’ll find it?”

Myrtle considered and floated over to an old sink. “It’s this one. He made some ugly hissing noise and it opened up.”

“You’re a godsend, Myrtle!” Albus said. Myrtle smiled at that, perking up in a sudden shift of mood. Scorpius thanked her too and followed Albus to the sink. He examined it and found branded upon it a serpent.

“It’s gotta be this,” Albus said.

“Do you remember how to say the…words?”

“I’ve been practicing every night before I fall asleep,” Albus said proudly.

“Is that what all that hissing stuff was about? I thought you were just being weird,” Scorpius said. Albus rolled his eyes and stepped forward. He cleared his throat as if about to give a grand speech, and an odd series of noises escape his mouth; Throaty, but quiet. Scorpius imagined it was how a hissing cat would sound if it tried to speak proper English. But, to Scorpius’s shock, there was light. The tap spun and the sink itself sank into the floor revealing a large pipe that led down into the darkness. Albus clapped and shoved his fist in the air victoriously.

“I expect to never hear any doubts from you ever again!” Albus said, jokingly.

“You sure this leads to the Chamber of Secrets?” Scorpius asked expecting a much different entrance.

“What else could it be, Scorpius?! Come on,” Albus said.

“Wait! We don’t know what’s down there,” Scorpius said.

“The basilisk is dead,” Albus said.

“And what if something else took its place.”

“It’s just going to be a creepy pit with some old bones. That’s all. My aunt and uncle went in during the Battle of Hogwarts and were totally unscathed. We’ll be fine. It’s now or never, Scorpius,” Albus insisted. Scorpius considered and he didn’t know if he trusted any of this or that damn pipe, but he trusted Albus completely. Scorpius nodded, albeit with some reluctance.

“I’ll go first,” Scorpius said. He wanted to be brave and not prove himself a coward. He thought maybe volunteering to go first would help him. It did not. He carefully held his broom and his bag sat in his lap and stared down into the darkness before him, trying to muster the courage to let himself go.

“I’ll see you down there,” Albus said, standing right behind Scorpius. Scorpius felt a small shove on his back that thoroughly launched him down the pipe. He cried out angrily for Albus, realizing his friend had pushed him, but he was sliding fast and Albus was out of sight. Scorpius felt as though he was nearly freefalling down, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle, passing other small pipes in the plumbing system along the way. He tried to balance his belongings carefully, but that was easier said than done. He could hear Albus a small distance behind him, and unlike Scorpius, he sounded as though he was enjoying this ride.

Scorpius didn’t know how long he fell for until suddenly he felt the ground fall out from beneath as he was launched into a grimy wetness on the floor below. He quickly got to his feet and out of the way, not wanting to cushion Albus’s fall with his own body. Albus did indeed land with a small splash as Scorpius looked over his robes, now completely covered in filth. He knew his mother would throw a fit if she saw him like that. Albus practically leapt to his feet, also grossed out by the shallow, slimy water they landed in.

“You good?” Albus asked.

“Yeah. You?”

“Never better. We better get moving,” Albus said. Both boys illuminated their wands and set off down the dark, eerily silent tunnel littered with ancient animal bones. Scorpius cringed whenever he felt some crack under his feet, though he was trying to be careful. On and on they walked, and Scorpius’s heart pounded with anxiety the longer the winding tunnel went on for. Had they been steered wrong? Were they even in the right place? Where, relative to the school, were they even? Around yet another curve of the tunnel, into sight came a solid wall decorated with two elegant looking serpents, wrapped about each other with glimmering eyes. Scorpius’s heart sank.

“Did your uncle tell you about this?” he asked Albus.

“No. But it’s gotta be similar to the sink, right? Let me try,” Albus said, stepping forward to the door. The boy cleared his throat and hissed at the wall again, which Scorpius would find comical if it were a different situation. Again, to his surprise, the snakes moved apart and a crack appeared the wall, the two haves sliding apart like a door. Scorpius stepped forward to stand beside his friend and the two moved together inside.

Scorpius’s jaw dropped at what he saw. It was like the dark elegance of the Slytherin common room on a much bigger, far less cozy, scale. Great pillars climbed by stony serpents were on both sides of the path leading down the long chamber. The light was faint, but a greenish hue colored the air. Both boys were speechless as they walked tentatively when they stopped at the sight of a massive statue in long carved robes and a beard that came near to the hem of the robes.

“That’s him, eh?” Albus asked quietly.

“Salazar Slytherin,” Scorpius affirmed.

“The man who started it all,” Albus said with a sigh. Looking the statue over from its head to its feet, their eyes landed on a massive set of bones on the stone floor. It was like a long spine and ribcage and covered a great length of the floor and one end, a massive skull full of sharp teeth bigger than Scorpius’s hands. He noticed some looked to be missing.

“Bloody hell…” Albus said and Scorpius shared his sentiment, afraid to approach the basilisk’s corpse as though the bones were still alive. “My dad killed that thing…With the sword of Godric Gryffindor. ‘Only a _true Gryffindor_ can wield it,’ James says,” Albus said, as if thinking aloud. Scorpius looked at him, surprised to see an almost sad expression on his friend’s face.

“Maybe only true Slytherins can do what we’re doing,” Scorpius said. Albus smiled at Scorpius, though he still seemed to have mixed feelings about the beast. To make the most of their time, they set to work investigate the skeleton. Scorpius was careful not to touch the tip of any of the creature’s fangs and he pulled one out with ease, frightened to know he was holding what could be considered one of the deadliest weapons in the wizarding world.

“At least if you don’t get it right the first time, you can try again,” Albus said, referring to the sheer number of teeth the basilisk had. Scorpius carefully set down the fang in his hand and set to work on getting a makeshift workstation in order, with Albus’s help. It was nothing like his mother’s laboratory at home, but Scorpius was impressed with how the setup looked.

“What now?” Albus asked. Scorpius picked up the fang again and sat on the ground before the cauldron and array of tools, thankful he brought a blanket from the linen supplies in the dormitory to sit on.

“We try to extract the venom,” Scorpius said. “Look, if you get tired, you don’t have to stay down here with me. This part’s mainly on me and you’ve done enough already.”

“Are you mad? I’m not going to leave you in this goddamn creepy place alone,” Albus said, sitting across from Scorpius. “I know I’m rubbish at potions, but maybe I can help.”

Scorpius laughed a little. “We’ll see.”

Scorpius set to work, following the instructions in his uncle’s old book of dark magic extremely carefully. He set to brewing a potion, but this substance was only the beginning. When the liquid was boiling, he muttered an incantation with his wand, according to the directions, and prayed that it would work. To his surprise, a greenish puff of steam rose from the cauldron just like he was hoping. He took the fang in his hand and was about to set it in when Albus stopped him.

“What are you doing that for?”

“Extracting the venom, hopefully,” Scorpius said.

“Don’t you need like…tools or knives for that?” Albus asked.

“I could have tried that. There’re a few different ways. This potion will dissolve the bone as it evaporates, leaving only the venom behind. That is, if I did it right. The book said this is the trickiest method, but it’s also the least risky. This way I won’t be able to cut myself and accidentally get venom in me,” Scorpius explained.

“Alright, I trust you. How long will this take?” Albus asked.

“I need to watch it for an hour or so. After that, the fang needs to sit in the cauldron, once the potion is stable, the evaporation and dissolution can take…weeks.”

“Weeks?!”

“Weeks,” Scorpius confirmed. “I know the timing is not ideal, but this is really tricky stuff and way beyond my level as it is. It takes time.”

“Alright. We’ll work with what we got,” Albus said. Scorpius carefully lowered the fang into the cauldron and the liquid that swallowed swirled with furious activity before settling. Scorpius kept an eye on the cauldron, thankful for Albus’s company now more than ever.

“You really think my dad tried to kill yours?” Albus asked some time later, abruptly changing the subject from their previously mundane conversation.

Scorpius shrugged. “Father’s never mentioned it. Besides, my dad did worse in the long run any way, as usual…”

“That was a long time ago,” Albus said.

“Seems like our parents don’t see it that way,” Scorpius said.

“Yeah. Sometimes I feel like my parents, especially my dad, still act like the world was like how it was then when Voldemort was running around. Know what I mean?” Albus asked.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Scorpius said, some bitterness in his tone as he spoke low. “What Myrtle said about my parents, do you know what she was talking about?”

“How your mum made your dad cry?”

“No, not that. She said that my father was forced to be with her. I know they were really young, but they never said anything about being forced. And if they were, why would they be together now?” Scorpius said.

Albus rolled his eyes. “Don’t let Myrtle get to you. James told me not to believe a word that comes out of her mouth. She misunderstands or makes things up all the time. She doesn’t have a clue about most things she talks about.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.”

“You really think your dad was in there crying about your mum?” Albus asked after a pause. “No offense, but my uncle said your dad was a real asshole in school and he just doesn’t seem like the type to go crying to ghosts about girls.”

Scorpius laughed. “No offense taken. And honestly, I have no idea. He tends to keep his feelings to himself. I think my mother’s the only one who understands anything about him at all.”

“Do you ever think it’s weird? How they had these crazy things in their lives and how our parents all hated each other and we’re just two normal kids who happened to become friends?” Albus asked.

“I don’t know if anything about you or me is normal,” Scorpius said with a little laugh.

“Touché,” Albus said. “Enough about them. What’s up with you and Rose?”

Scorpius was taken aback, unprepared for the question. One of Albus’s most obnoxious, though endearing, quirks was his propensity to change the subject seemingly at random.

“I dunno,” Scorpius started. “Haven’t talked to her much lately.”

“She can’t be bitter about losing in Quidditch forever,” Albus said. To her credit, Rose had tried to be show good sportsmanship by telling Scorpius he had a good game after the match, but it was plain that she was not happy with Slytherin’s victory.

“I’m not sure that’s it. She’s been stressed with school, I think,” Scorpius said, trying not to reveal too much of his conversation with her back at Hogsmeade. Scorpius had been a bit disappointed that his advice to her, about giving herself a break, had fallen on her deaf ears. If anything, she was pushing herself harder. She hardly looked up from her cauldron in Potions, concentrating with all her might and could often be found hunched over stacks of books in the library.

“Have you tried, y’know, talking to her?” Albus asked.

“After how she took my offer of helping her last time, I think it’s best to let her be for now,” Scorpius said.

“Suit yourself,” Albus said with a sigh.

“You and Fiona are doing well though,” Scorpius said. Albus smirked.

“Yeah…It’s been long enough now that we’re debating on whether or not to tell her parents about us. My family knows, but they don’t seem to care much one way or another, at least for now,” Albus said. Scorpius supported the relationship fully, seeing how Fiona grounded Albus when he needed it and how he softened her.

“My parents are good friends with hers. Her mum’s fine but is a take-no-shit type of person. Her dad is just…really hard to read. I’d avoid getting on his bad side though,” Scorpius said.

Albus smiled, though he looked a bit defeated. “That’s so helpful, thanks. Tell you what, I’ll go to Fiona’s and say ‘Hello, Mr. Zabini, I’m Albus Potter, yes that Potter, and I’m dating your daughter’ if you write home and tell your parents you took the Minister’s daughter on a date!”

“It wasn’t a date,” Scorpius corrected with a laugh. “And there’s no way in Hell.”

Their tedious task carried on and Scorpius was grateful Albus was there in the cold chamber to tell him jokes and keep his spirits up. The bizarreness of their situation and the grandly creepy surroundings felt far less intimidating with Albus there. Scorpius imagined the Chamber of Secrets had never been filled with such laughter. But still, in the back of his mind, Scorpius could not help but sense the castle above them and its storied, often murky, history. It was a history that both invited him in with temptation yet threatened to crush him under its enormous weight. He had no clue what he was doing, stumbling in the dark through this task and perhaps even his life in many ways, but at the same time he felt oddly at home here with his friend.

He had always been a night owl, at least beyond early childhood. He found night to be calm, sublime, for darkness ironically reveled what day would hide, namely the stars themselves. For a while now he had felt like a loving darkness followed him around wherever he went, and he resolved now to embrace it. His family, his legacies, his name, his house had long been steeped in darkness and daring instead to reach for it, not run from it, was a starkly clear solution to his troubled dualities now.

When the potion settled, turning itself silvery gray like molten metal, Scorpius rose and stretched. The cauldron would wait here at Salazar Slytherin’s feet near to bones of a long dead monster until it was time for him to return again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the love! Stay well, stay safe.


	11. Growing Pains

_It was August the year Scorpius was eleven years old. It was impossible for him not to be jittery with excitement about his upcoming journey to Hogwarts. He desired nothing more than to be sorted into Slytherin like all his family before him._

_“Once you’re sorted into Slytherin, you’re in for life,” Draco once told Scorpius, but the boy was too young to make sense of the melancholy in his father’s tone. The dualistic meaning, the conflicting pride and tragedy, in Draco’s words was far too much for a boy his age to understand._

_With those words in mind, the idea of easily making lifelong friends and everlasting comradery in Slytherin filled him with anticipation for the future just weeks ahead. Scorpius would keep himself up at night imagining who he would meet, the status he’d obtain, the legacy he would carry through those hallowed halls. All that daydreaming made him thirsty and he knew his mother would scold him if he slept in too late. He crept out of his room and down the many stairs and corridors to the kitchen to fetch a comforting cup of tea._

_The Winters fortress was his playground, but there were a few places he knew that his parents would retreat to. The first of course being their private room. The second Draco’s office when they had dull conversations about politics and household matters. The final one was deep in the ancient bowels of the little castle. They assured Scorpius this was but an old storage room, but it was protected with an intricate magical enchantment his parents promised to reveal when he was old enough. Tonight, Scorpius didn’t care to know such secrets, but he was quite shocked to find his parents at the long dining room table directly in his path to the kitchen below._

_Scorpius quickly ducked back around the corner, standing still and silent as the grave, hoping his parents had not heard or seen him. He thought quickly. The secret passage to kitchen was far away and it was risky to move through the walls while his parents were still awake; if caught he’d surely be banned from having desert the next day. He thought of his next move when he heard his mother’s soft voice._

_“If it’s too much, we can stop,” she said. That piqued Scorpius’s interest. He shuffled a little closer to the corner and leaned as far as he could without being noticed. He poked his head out to see. His parents sat at the table, beside each other, their faces plain as day in the soft candlelight. On the table before them were old newspapers, all splayed out and small stacks of photographs and documents. Scorpius didn’t linger long enough to get a good enough look when his father spoke._

_“No. It’s been two decades. It should be easy by now,” Draco insisted quietly, his voice low and grave. “Are you ever jealous of our friends?”_

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“Daphne and Blaise’s was fun. Even Pansy and Haper’s was nice. You never got that chance—”_

_“Draco, not this again…”_

_“You deserved that at the very least.”_

_“So did you,” Valeria said. Scorpius heard the sound of a frustrated fist landing on the table._

_“You don’t need to coddle me,” Draco said. “These pictures…If only there were some spell to send me back and grab myself by the collar and shake him into doing something right. If I could find a way to force that coward of boy to be a man—”_

_“You were practically a child. You sound like your father,” Valeria said._

_“That hurts,” Draco said before taking a long pause. “You were beautiful that day. Even I could not have wished for anything more. Looking at myself in these pictures…I remember thinking unfair to me it all was. How I didn’t even appreciate who I was marrying…How I refused to take responsibility…I just stood there and let them do that to you—”_

_“It was done to both of us. You are not some curse on my life,” Valeria insisted with great concern. “You kept the vows you made. None of it was your fault.”_

_“How can you believe that? No matter how we saw it then, you were my wife that day and now you’re the mother of my son. It was my responsibility that day to keep this family safe and I failed you at every turn. I wonder if I’m still failing you now—”_

_“Stop…”_

_“I know what people have said, what they probably still think. That, even when it was over, I forced you to stay. That I robbed you of everything because of who I was and what I did. Even I have to wonder why you stayed.”_

_“Stop this. Now.”_

_“If you ever want to end this, just say the word and I won’t stop you—”_

_Scorpius nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a chair quickly scraping on the floor. Then silence. He peaked out again. His mother was a petite woman, often reserved and dignified, but now she stood defiant and as stalwart as a mountain, practically looming over Draco, still seated, with an express of grief and rage. But then she went to her husband and gently pressed her hands to his shoulders._

_“I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks. I don’t give a damn about what they ever thought. I am not your victim and you don’t get to pretend to be a villain anymore, least of all to me. I love you. I love our son and I love that you’re his father. Remember when I got this?”_

_Scorpius could not see what his mother was referring to._

_“Val, please—”_

_“We brought all this out to remember and I want you to remember that day too. Remember what you did for me? You risked your life, you told me you were sure you would die for that. You paid a debt that you did not owe.”_

_There was a brief silence. Scorpius heard his mother softly uttering his father’s names. He saw Draco’s shoulders tremble and to Scorpius’s absolute shock, he heard his father start to cry. Quickly Valeria embraced Draco, his face buried in her chest, gently shushing him. Through the soft, muffled cries, Scorpius could hear his father’s words: “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”_

“Sorry for the delay, Mrs. Malfoy. I appreciate you coming so promptly so we can get this sorted,” Terry Boot said, passing Valeria some documents. “Should be pretty straightforward, I think you’ll find.”

“I was here anyway,” Valeria said, beginning to skim the parchments.

“Planning the Unification gala? How’s that going?” Boot asked.

“Moving along. A few snags, but nothing unexpected,” Valeria said vaguely, not terribly interested in making small talk. Planning the Christmas gala was not a disaster, but Valeria more than once had to use her skills in event planning, and influence with vendors, to pick up dropped balls on behalf of the committee. She did so without complaint, but the time constraints forced her to be at the Ministry more than she cared to be. The documents on the desk were primarily simple estate tax documents, just the final tying of loose ends after her mother’s death. She was grateful for her ability to compartmentalize her feelings; She hardly felt any grief at this bureaucratic task.

“Whole family planning on attending?” Boot asked.

“I should hope so. As much work as I’ve put into it, I don’t think they’d dare not come,” Valeria said, finding the question stupid. Boot shifted in his seat.

“Might have to keep our boys separated,” Boot said with a forced laugh. Valeria was unamused.

“If you have an issue with how our sons interact at school, we can it take it to their professors,” Valeria said.

“Sorry, a poor shot at a joke,” Boot said. “Clarence is still upset about Scorpius costing him his chance to make the Quidditch team.”

That did pique her interest and Boot retold the story, from his son’s perspective, of Scorpius duping Clarence into detention. As a parent, she knew she should have been annoyed with Scorpius’s behavior. She knew she should admonish Draco for giving the boy ideas on how to antagonize his peers, but she could not help but find the event hilarious and had to hold back a smile. Apples certainly did not fall far from trees.

“I’m sure they’ll grow out of whatever bad blood they have. The rest of us did, didn’t we?” Valeria said.

“I suppose,” Boot said before pausing. “Listen, I know this isn’t exactly appropriate, but you and I have hardly spoken. I just…I feel like saying I’m sorry.”

Valeria dropped the papers onto the desk and leaned back in the office chair. “What on earth are you getting at?”

“I know I was just a kid, but I feel like if I had handled it differently…Maybe you would have been able to avoid a whole lot of grief.”

“What are you suggesting?” Valeria asked, disgusted.

“I don’t mean…No, I don’t mean that it would have lasted with us, of course. But…If I hadn’t broken it off fifth year at least, you wouldn’t have been forced to—”

Valeria stood at once. She quickly dipped a quill in ink and signed where her signature was required, before collecting her things.

“You’re correct. This is entirely inappropriate—”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I just wanted to express—”

“I love my family and am dedicated to my husband, then and now. I would appreciate it if you stopped lingering on this and I would remind the lengths I once went to protect us should you dream of mentioning this to anyone,” Valeria said darkly.

“Valeria, you don’t have to threaten me,” Boot said.

“It’s not a threat,” she said, turning away to make for the door. “But I wouldn’t mention your feelings to Draco if I were you.”

Upon opening the door, Valeria nearly startled herself. For of course who would be standing there waiting but Draco himself.

“What are you doing here?” she asked with a smile.

“Donated some rare books for the gala’s auction. Thought I’d just meet you here when you were done. You alright?” he said. Draco was the only person who could pick up on Valeria’s well-concealed shifts of mood and this case was no exception. Before she could respond, he spoke again. “Did Boot say something—”

“Valeria, I’m—” Boot said, cutting himself off as he reached the door and saw Draco standing there with her. “Malfoy, good to see you.”

Valeria knew Draco’s gentleness. There was a tenderness about him that she adored and that only she truly knew. But, as he picked up on the tension of the situation, he snaked his arm around her back, pulling her gently close by the waist. She could feel him tense beside her, pulling his shoulders up and back. This was precisely the sort of display of over-masculine nonsense she hated, but she chose not to diffuse the tension this time.

“I trust your business has gone on a without a hitch. Is there anything else you need from my _wife_ ,” Draco said. She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye. Every once in a while, a moment like this, Draco could easily summon all of his signature Malfoy arrogance, though matured from his youth. She was wise never to tell him that she secretly liked it, lest he decide to take on that arrogance permanently.

“Yes, we’re finished. I thought I had some other matter to bring up, but the thought’s escaped me. Good day to you both,” Boot said quickly, nearly stumbling over his words before retreating back into the safety of his office.

“What’d he say?” Draco asked, voice low.

“Just bringing up stuff from the past that didn’t to be aired again,” Valeria said, choosing to keep the details to herself.

“If he tried anything, tell me now and I will take care of—”

“You flatter me, but no, of course not. Why on earth would he—?”

“I don’t know,” Draco began, his hand sliding down her lower back dangerously close to her rear. “If it were me and I was alone with you, I’d definitely consider—” He was cut off by Valeria playfully smacking him on the arm.

“We’re in public, Draco,” she hissed.

“I’ve done many things I should apologize for, loving you is not one of them,” he said. Valeria laughed at his corniness.

“Speaking of apologies. Would you like to explain to me how our son got the bright idea to challenge Boot’s son to a wizard’s duel after curfew and then not show up to said duel?” Valeria asked. Unprepared for the remark, Draco burst into a loud laughter that he quickly contained, but not before passersby noticed.

“That’s my boy,” Draco said with light pride. “Scorpius has a good head on his shoulders. Whatever Boot’s son did, I’m sure he deserved it.”

“They’re children, Draco,” Valeria said, trying to scold him, but also trying not to laugh herself. “Apparently Clarence missed Quidditch trials serving detention.” Draco laughed again, quieter this time.

“Sounds like he got himself into trouble fair and square. I was starting to worry Scorpius was taking too much after you. Glad to hear there’s some Malfoy in him yet,” Draco said.

Valeria rolled her eyes and smirked. “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m sorry, mate,” Albus said sympathetically near the end of dinner. Scorpius could hardly concentrate on eating. It had been a week since he first saw Rose walk out of class hand-in-hand with a fifth year Ravenclaw boy, Thomas Winslow.

“Explains why she’s been avoiding me all these weeks,” Scorpius said, looking longingly over at the Gryffindor table where Thomas stood by Rose, making her laugh. It had been a while since he and Rose had had a proper chat. Scorpius figured it was her concern over schoolwork or even Slytherin’s excellent shows in Quidditch matches.

“I swear I would have told you had I known,” Albus said. Albus was being a good friend, he had even taken time away from Fiona to hang out more with Scorpius, a gesture the latter appreciated. Scorpius was overcome with stress to begin with. The final assignments before the holiday recess were fast approaching, he had a dangerous and illegal brew bubbling away in the Chamber of Secrets, and he was anxious about going home for the holiday.

He was looking forward to seeing his parents, but he knew he’d be swimming with anxiety over the state of the potion back at school. Would it explode and blow a hole in the side of the school? Would it dissolve into the floor? Would a teacher decide to trek down there, somehow, and stumble upon it? His mind swirled with every impossible possibility.

He washed his face in the bathroom of the boy’s dormitory that night. He examined his face in the mirror, lingering on the details of his features. Thomas Winslow was older, a bit taller too, with thick dirty-blond hair and deep blue eyes. Scorpius had seen pictures of his own father and grandfather in their respective youths, and he could see them both again looking at himself. Though his mother’s features could be found with a long look, it was the Malfoy genes that prevailed in the makeup of Scorpius’s appearance.

The pointed Malfoy chin was there as well as the resting face that made him look snobby and bored, even when he felt nothing of a sort. His lanky physique too left something to be desired, to Scorpius’s mind. Quidditch had helped him put on some muscle, but not enough to be that noticeable under his robes. Thomas too at least had color in his cheeks, where Scorpius had always been pale as a sheet. Hours in the sun only burned him, his parents having to magically soothe the red skin, never giving his skin even a hint of golden color.

Of course, it was the hair that he received the most comments on. The fine, white-blond hair that could have done with a haircut at present, was a far cry from Thomas’s wavy textured hair. It was his defining feature, the thing that could sort him from the rest of the crowd, but now Scorpius had a mind to change it. He had been downright dumb to think that Rose would find him the least bit handsome (at least, as handsome as someone in the throes of adolescence could be to a teenage girl.) He knew he wasn’t hopeless in his appearance, of course, but it still bothered him, making him wish his parents’ genes had made less of a mark on him.

He was overanalyzing, he knew it, but that fact did little too soothe his bubbling insecurities. He understood deeply, now more than ever, Albus’s irritation at being told how much he resembled his own father, as the latter would often complain.

“Scorpius! Where are you?” Albus called from the common room, his voice carrying impressively. Scorpius shook himself from his thoughts and headed down at his friend’s behest, finding Albus gathered with Fiona and Norman Harper in their own corner of the common room. It was away from the fire and not prime real estate, that was reserved for the older students, but it was comfortable at least. Scorpius let his body relax into an armchair amongst his friends.

“You guys going to that Unification Gala?” Albus asked.

Norman scoffed. “My mum says it’s stupid and she wouldn’t be caught there.”

“Not sure, yet. Mum wants to go and support Scorpius’s mum, but my dad thinks it’s a waste of time,” Fiona said.

“ _Your_ parents are going, Scorpius?!” Norman asked.

“Mother’s on that Ministry committee with the long name and has been helping plan it, so yeah. I’m going,” Scorpius said.

“That sucks,” Norman said.

“We should just get our dads together tonight so they can drink wine and complain,” Fiona said with a laugh.

“Isn’t that all they do together already?” Norman asked.

“Yeah, and they’d probably be happier for it,” Scorpius said.

“My dad’s Harry goddamn Potter. Aunt’s the Minister. Attendance is practically mandatory. Maybe I’ll try to catch the plague to get out of it. That’s the only way they’d let me miss it,” Albus began. “That means we probably won’t see all of each other over the break.” It was only a few weeks, but knowing Albus, Scorpius was certain that Albus was not looking forward to spending all of his time with his massive family.

“We’ll see each other at the Malfoy Christmas party,” Fiona said.

“It’s the event of the season. And the only time the Malfoys actually socialize…” Norman said.

Albus scoffed. “I don’t think my family will receive an invention anytime soon…”

“I can ask if you like,” Scorpius chimed in.

“If that’s how you’d like to meet my parents, Albus,” Fiona said.

Albus looked pale for a moment. “On second thought, might want to skip it anyway.”

“You’re not missing much if it makes you feel better. The party’s always so dull. Adults babbling drunkenly about politics, mother trying to get father to dance after three cups of wine. It’s embarrassing,” Scorpius said, earnestly.

Albus laughed. “Now that I might actually like to see.”

“I don’t know what any of you are talking about. I for one am looking forward to getting out of here for a bit,” Norman said.

“What do you mean? Slytherin’s beating everyone in Quidditch and leading in house points. We’re on top of the school,” Fiona said.

“So? Doesn’t change how _boring_ this place is,” Norman replied.

“Hardly makes a difference for me. I can’t get away from my family no matter where I go. They’re here and home, it’s obnoxious. My dad got stay or go with friends every year. It’s unfair,” Albus said.

“Wasn’t your dad like raised by muggles?” Norman asked, not veiling disdain in his voice. Albus groaned.

“God, I almost forgot dad’s gonna make me go see the Dursley’s too! You think here’s boring, try spending it with them. My dad told me how much of a prick his cousin was but insists ‘family’s important’ and makes us go see them anyway! They once got my mum this toaster that likes plugs into the wall.”

“Why would someone put a toaster in a wall?” Fiona asked.

“That makes absolutely no sense,” Scorpius said in agreement.

“No, it’s got a cord that goes into a little hole that gives the thing power. Did none of you pay attention in Muggle Studies?” Albus said.

“No,” the other three responded in unison, followed by laughter.

“I don’t think my mum did either. Dad had to explain to her how it works and now it’s sitting in the back of a dusty cabinet,” Albus said, to the amusement of his friends. The conversation soothed Scorpius’s adolescent angst some, though he remembered he’d be seeing Rose at the gala and he hoped against hope she wouldn’t bring Thomas as a date.

As the night wore on Norman and Fiona eventually made their exits to bed, leaving only Albus and Scorpius in their quiet corner. There were a few stragglers in the common room, but none were concerned about what the two boys were getting up to. Stealthily, Albus pulled out the map and had a look.

“Looks like it’s clear for the most part. If you want to check on our _project_ , now might be our best chance before the break,” Albus said. Scorpius considered, anxious to see how it was going, but hating the massive risk they were taking to break into the chamber once more.

“Maybe we should,” he concluded. As quietly as they could, they collected the necessary things from their dormitory for the excursion and began the journey to the Chamber of Secrets, using the map to dodge anyone who could catch them. Moaning Myrtle had surprisingly been tight lipped about their mysterious need to get into the chamber, but she was quite satisfied with the regular visits, despite the awkwardness of her flirtations.

The chamber was far less scary than it used to be, and Scorpius felt confident walking through it now. In a dark sort of way, it felt right. Slytherin was part of his legacy too and accessing the secrets related to his house was a bit seductive. He examined the cauldron and was surprised to find his handiwork undisturbed. Referencing the book of dark magic, it was progressing smoothly.

“Any way to know when it’ll be done?” Albus asked.

Scorpius shook his head. “It’s going to take a bit longer. A few more weeks.”

“That’s what you said weeks ago,” Albus said.

“This type of magic, dark magic, it’s really fickle and I’m inexperienced. I’m honestly shocked it’s going as well as it is.”

“It won’t spoil over the break will it?”

“Shouldn’t. Just needs to sit. If it’s finished before we’ll get back, it’ll be stabilized enough to be waiting for us. If I did it right, at least,” Scorpius said. Hearing himself say it abated his fears slightly, but he could only hope that he was right at this point.

“Sounds good,” Albus said, having a seat on the ground.

“Shouldn’t we be getting back?”

“I kind of just want to take a load off for a minute. It’s quiet here, kind of cool in a spooky way.”

“Common room would be more comfortable.”

“Come on, Scorpius. You have to admit this is pretty damn cool. Look at what we’ve done, this is practically historical! And we’ve got the place all to ourselves.”

Scorpius resigned to follow Albus’s lead and took a seat too, the statue of Slytherin looming over them just as much as the basilisk’s bones. But neither minded. The pair talked Quidditch and school business, laughing as they did. Scorpius admitted to himself that this was kind of cool. It filled him with some confidence to know what he had thus far accomplished without anyone raising a brow or having the slightest idea. He felt, just a little, as if he was living up to a legacy that haunted him since before he was born. Though, he doubted Rose would see it that way if she knew, and there was no way he could tell her…

“What’re you going to do about Rose?” Albus asked, jarring Scorpius from his thoughts.

“Nothing, I guess. She’s seeing Winslow now,” Scorpius said.

“Grow a spine, mate! You can’t let Winslow steal your girl.”

“She was never ‘my girl.’ We’ve barely talked in weeks anyway. If I tried anything, it’d just be creepy and weird,” Scorpius said.

“Obviously, but you should play the long game. Find a way to win her over in the long term, y’know. Swoop in when Winslow screws up. That sort of thing,” Albus said.

“She either likes me or doesn’t, that’s the long and short of it. I don’t want to play games,” Scorpius said.

“Get her a really expensive present, like a new broom or something impressive,” Albus said.

“I doubt she’d care how expensive something is. She’s not like that. Besides, Winslow would kick my ass.”

“He might be in Ravenclaw, but you’re the smartest person I know. You could outsmart him easy.”

“You’re mad,” Scorpius said with a laugh. He appreciated Albus’s efforts but took none of it seriously.

As the final weeks of term passed, Scorpius was getting so sick of schoolwork that he was looking forward to some peace and quiet in Wales. He was going to miss Albus, though and knew they wouldn’t see each other until the gala. Even just sitting on the Hogwarts Express was exhausting what with all the holiday excitement boiling over from the feast prior to departure. It was a long journey and Scorpius was happy to nap most of it away, if he could.

The journey had begun with Norman, Albus, Fiona and Scorpius sharing a compartment, but they had broken off at different points of the trek. Fiona had gone off to visit with the other Slytherin girls Norman tried to suck up to some of the other Quidditch players in hopes of boosting his chances for a spot on the team next year. James had played a prank on Albus that made the latter’s hair stand on end and look quite silly, so Albus went off to seek his vengeance. That left Scorpius alone for a peaceful spell. He was nearly nodding off when the compartment door sliding open roused him from near-sleep. He looked up, shocked to see Rose standing there.

“Sorry. I knocked, but I think you were sleeping. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, blushing a little. Scorpius straightened up and smiled.

“No, it’s fine. What’s up?”

“I, um, just wanted to drop this off,” she said, holding out a small, festively wrapped box to him. Scorpius could feel his cheeks turn red as he stood.

“I didn’t get you anything,” he said. “I mean, I didn’t get you anything yet.” He hadn’t planned on getting her anything but had to lie for the sake of his dignity.

“You don’t have to,” she insisted. “You’ve been really nice to me this year and I just wanted to say thanks and share the holiday spirit a little.”

Scorpius blushed again as he felt his fingers lightly brush hers while he took the box from her. He carefully unwrapped it, both of them feeling the time pass like eons. Inside was a lovely wood box and inside supplies for Quidditch broom maintenance. Scorpius did not have the heart to tell Rose that he already owned one.

“This is brilliant! Exactly what I’ve been wanting. Thank you so much,” he said, genuinely touched by the gesture.

“Good, I’m glad! I was worried you might already have one, but I’m glad I went for it,” she said.

“Good thinking. This is great. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two youngsters lingered. Unsure of what to say next, the two stood awkwardly smiling at each other for a moment. Rose went in for a friendly hug, but Scorpius moved the same way and they ended up awkwardly bumping into each other. They laughed, readjusted and embraced. Scorpius noted that her hair smelled like vanilla.

“Merry Christmas, Scorpius,” she said.

“You too, Rose.”

They let go of each other.

“I’ll see you at the gala, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Looking forward to it,” Rose said.

“Yeah, me too,” he said, actually meaning his words this time. Rose departed after a quick goodbye and Scorpius sat, his heart admittedly full of buzzing while looking through the contents of the gift.

“What’s that?!” Albus asked, reentering the compartment without warning. Albus’s hair had been put back to its usual state, but it was still just as shaggy as ever.

“A gift from Rose.”

“Really?! Alright, mate, you have to get her something now. Something amazing. Something that prick Winslow would never think to get her…”

“I’ve never been good at that sort of thing. What does she like other than books?” Scorpius asked.

Albus thought for a moment. “I’ll tell you what; I’ll be seeing her constantly over the recess. I’ll try to spy for you and write you ideas for her.”

“Alright,” Scorpius said, feeling bold. “That might work…”

The two spend the remaining time on the train playing games and laughing until journey’s end. They stepped onto the platform together.

“Have a good Christmas, mate,” Albus said.

“You too,” Scorpius said. “Don’t let the Gryffindors get you down.”

“Like I ever would,” Albus said with a laugh. They shared a warm hug before reluctantly parting to find their respective families. Scorpius’s parents were not hard to spot. They were both overdressed in their fine, dark robes for the occasion and his father’s long, white-blond hair stuck out easily in the crowd. His mother practically smothered him when she hugged.

“Your hair looks affright, sweetheart. Have you not remembered single styling spell I taught you?” Valeria asked, fussing with Scorpius’s hair immediately.

“No,” both Scorpius and Draco replied at the same time. Draco hugged Scorpius though did not linger in the embrace too long, before places a firm hand on Scorpius’s shoulder.

“It’s good to see you, son. At least there’ll be someone else around to help your mother plan that damn party…”

“Draco…” Valeria scolded.

“It’s good to be home,” Scorpius said.

“It’s a long trip back to Wales. We should set off,” Draco said.

“Let him say goodbye to his friends if he likes,” Valeria said.

“No, I’m ready,” Scorpius said.

The Malfoys set off for the journey home and Scorpius turned to look over his shoulder, seeing the Potters and the Weasleys off in the distance, loud and crowded. Scorpius smiled a little, feeling as though he ready to take on the entire world, if only for now.


	12. An Unsettling Holiday

_The Malfoy Christmas party had humble beginnings. These gatherings had begun shortly after their return from Russia when they were still young. Draco and Valeria enjoyed their solitude in those early years, they found Christmas to be a lonely isolated in the harsh winters of Welsh mountains. It had begun with inviting a few friends over for a nice meal followed by drinking and talking._

_Daphne, Blaise, Pansy, Nott, Harper, Tracey and a few others of their old Slytherin cohort were the first to begin the tradition. Before the children were born. Sitting in the old lounge, a warm fire nearby, they’d get into a bit of a stupor reminiscing the times before it all went wrong._

_“How did that song go again?” Daphne asked the third year of the party._

_“Weasley is our King! He always lets the quaffle in…” Pansy sang, poorly, but hilariously. Draco cheeks were a little red from embarrassment, but it was all in good humor._

_“Malfoy was militant. Remember how he stood on the table and had the whole house practicing over and over?” Blaise said._

_“He still has a flair for the dramatic,” Valeria gently teased._

_They tried to keep the conversation light as best they could. Telling stories about Snape though would cast a dark cloud over their indulgent nostalgia. Valeria remembered him well and fondly. She regretted what became of him. She never got to thank him for what he did._

_Over the years the size of the party grew, and Valeria had got into her mind to make it an event. It was a taste of the past. The parties of her youth with all of her family and all of her friends in attendance. The Winters were known for throwing grand parties with festive enchantments and anyone who was anyone all eagerly came. It made her feel like who she was supposed to be._

_Though the guest list was still exclusive. It was a tricky balance to strike. Things were still tense, politically, in the wizarding world and they had fewer longstanding friends in the new Ministry. Yet, many of the old pureblood families were present. Still, the Malfoys had to be careful about letting ardent believers in the Dark Lord’s cause. Nott eventually stopped coming shortly after Scorpius’s birth for reasons Draco never specified. Goyle had never received an invitation, the Malfoys knowing he had never forgiven Draco for Crabbe’s death._

_Even so, Lucius and Narcissa always came. It felt odd not to invite them and Narcissa jumped at any chance to see her grandson. Draco was sure to keep a close eye on his father throughout the parties as best he could. Valeria spent most of her time fussing over everything, despite Draco’s desperate pleas for her to relax and enjoy herself._

_By the time Scorpius was in his Hogwarts years, the annual party was a much look-forwarded to event. It was the perfect opportunity for the Malfoys catch up on the inside talks and rumors of their world on their terms._

_Scorpius had been of extra help this year, now almost a young man himself in his fourth year of school, for which his parents had been grateful. Valeria stood before the mirror in her finest robes in honor of the holiday, adjusting her hair and face to the point of perfecting miniscule details. The only detractor being the scar across her face, Bellatrix Lestrange’s everlasting souvenir._

_Draco approached from behind, also dressed in his finest and began rubbing her shoulders with a massaging firmness._

_“Your muscles are as tough as dragon hide,” he said. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”_

_“What makes you think I’m not?” she asked, almost insulted by the implication._

_“This year has been a lot for you. Your mother, planning that damn gala, your potions work. You can take a break. We could have an easy holiday this time…”_

_“Our guests are due to arrive at any moment. It’s too late to cancel even if I wanted to.”_

_Draco leaned down, moving his hands to embrace her by the waist from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. “Just say the word and I’ll throw everyone out. I’ll fight them all off myself if you asked me to.” He was joking, of course, and Valeria laughed a little. “I’ve fought worse than the whole lot of them for you and I’d do it again without question.”_

_She turned and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Scorpius is looking forward to seeing his friends. Now, you need to let me finish.”_

_Draco only embraced tighter. “You’re a vision just as you’ve always been. Indulge a few more quiet moments alone with you.”_

The day after the party had been full of cleaning up, Scorpius forced to tidy his own private rooms after the mess the younger party attendees made of it the night before. His parents were exhausted, though happy that everything went so well, but Scorpius had urgent business that could not wait.

_Scorpius,_

_Hope your parents’ party isn’t as mind-numbing as my house been for bloody days. I’ve seen Rose a fair bit, but all she does is write to her boyfriend. All I’ve gotten out of her was that she’s been really annoyed with the way her hair is unmanageable in Quidditch. I don’t know anything about girl’s hair. I asked Fiona but she doesn’t play Quidditch, so her ideas weren’t great. Does that help at all? Sorry, I thought this would be easier. Hope you have a merry Christmas._

_-Albus_

Christmas was too close for comfort. In a matter of a day or two all the good gifts would be gone. Scorpius had to act. He didn’t know anything about girl’s hair either and he was hesitant to ask his mother. The very thought of telling his parents he was getting a gift for a girl he liked, the Minister’s daughter no less, made him cringe.

Scorpius marched down to the dining room where his parents were having a late, lazy lunch, going over the events of the night before.

“Can we go to Diagon Alley today?” he asked. His parents looked at him like he had antlers growing out of his head.

“Why on earth do you need to go to Diagon Alley today of all days?” Valeria asked.

“Christmas shopping,” Scorpius said. His parents were visibly unamused. ‘

“Scorpius, what did I tell you about ordering your gifts ahead of time? Diagon Alley is going to be packed with people and—” Valeria scolded.

“I know. I’m sorry. I just got distracted with school and Quidditch and I forgot. Please? It won’t be long, I just wanted to get a few things,” Scorpius said. It was a lie. He had ordered most of his gifts ahead of time, many had already arrived and were in his room waiting to be wrapped.

After a pregnant pause, Draco sighed. “I’ll take him. My father gave me an old bauble he wants appraised, so I need to make a trip there anyway. Maybe I’ll get something for this damn headache while I’m at it.”

“I told you not to take shots of firewhiskey with Blaise—” Valeria began as Draco stood.

“Yes, I know, darling and you are right about everything as always,” Draco said with a sigh. “Get your things, son. We’ll be on our way.”

Diagon Alley was indeed packed, as predicted, and Draco complained about his aching head being worse for it. In order to get back to peace and quiet as soon as possible, Draco trusted his son to buy what he needed while Draco went to finish his own business. Scorpius happily agreed, thankful that he wouldn’t have to drag his father around in gift-searching. However, this also meant he was on a bit of a time crunch.

He browsed the new releases at Flourish and Blotts, but he didn’t know what Rose had already read or what she would even be interested in reading next.

He tried Quality Quidditch Supplies next, but of all the hundreds of options, he could not decide what would or wouldn’t be appropriate. What would she even need?

Lost and running low on time, he headed for Without-Within Beauty; A store his mother had frequently bought from full of perfumes, salves, creams, hair products and other such merchandise. The place was packed with women and girls, though Scorpius spotted some clueless looking men staring blankly at the shelves. Scorpius made his way to the hair section, keeping an eye out for any familiar faces.

The shelves were full of combs, ribbons, lotions and even bottles of magical dye. Each product was enchanted or otherwise served different purposes he had no time to understand. He was ready to give up.

“Need any help, dear?”

He turned, an older woman with a sympathetic look who obviously worked at the store smiled at him. Scorpius cleared his throat.

“I, uh, my friend—who is a girl—has said that her hair gets in her face or is…hard to manage when she uh…She plays Quidditch, you see, and—”

The woman held up her hand to stop him. “I have just the thing, not to worry.”

She picked a box from a nearby shelf and handed it to Scorpius. She explained it was a kit of headbands, ties, combs and brushes meant to manage hair that could sometimes be temperamental during rigorous activities, such as Quidditch. The woman swore by the product and running low on time, Scorpius agreed, purchasing it. The woman packed it in a purple bag that was scented with a sort of balsamy perfume and sent Scorpius on his way. Scorpius pushed through the crowd to get to the meeting point he and his father agreed upon.

“Were you waiting long?”

“No, not at all,” Draco said. He raised an eyebrow at the purple bag in his son’s hand. “Something for your mother?”

Scorpius panicked internally but tried not to show it. He wasn’t ashamed of holding the bag, of course. He simply did not want to suffer the teenage humiliation of his father knowing he was buying gifts for a girl. “Uh, no…”

“Something for…a girl?” Draco asked, as if this conversation was just as uncomfortable for him.

“No,” Scorpius said quickly, but soon realized that his lie made him appear even more odd. He searched his mind in milliseconds to find a satisfying answer for his father. “It’s for Albus. For his hair?”

“For Albus’s hair…?”

“You’ve seen it. It’s always untidy and all over the place. I thought this might help,” Scorpius said, trying not to stutter, gesturing to the bag. Draco stared blankly for a moment at his son, but to Scorpius’s relief seemed satisfied, albeit bewildered, with the explanation. Draco muttered something about not understanding the youth anymore before they made off for home.

“Do you think we need to have a talk with Scorpius?” Draco asked, later that day long after Scorpius retreated to his room.

“Did something happen?” Valeria asked in return. Draco explained to her the odd interaction in Diagon Alley.

“He said it was for Albus to tidy his hair,” Draco said.

“Well that poor boy did inherit Potter’s unfortunate mop,” Valeria said.

“Scorpius was jittery about it. I think it was actually for a girl,” Draco said.

“He’s barely fifteen years old, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about even if he did buy a girl a present.”

“Aren’t we supposed to talk to him about these kinds of things?”

“Perhaps you should.”

“Me? Alone?”

“You’re his father!”

“But you’re a girl.”

Valeria rolled her eyes. “I’m his _mother_. I’m the last _girl_ he’d want to hear such things from. How’d your parents handle it?”

“You want to take parenting advice from _my_ parents? It was awful. Outright torture.” Draco put on a mocking tone to imitate his father. _“Now, son, when a wizard marries a witch, it becomes his marital duty—”_ Valeria burst out laughing, interrupting Draco’s impression. “My mother was there too. I begged her to make it stop, but she just said that I needed to know it.”

“See? Having your mother there made it worse. It’s just one of those fatherly things, Draco,” Valeria said.

“How’d your parents handle it?”

“Mother sat me down, explained it and we went on with our day as usual,” Valeria said.

Draco thought for a moment. “If I must do this, I’ll wait until after Christmas.”

“I promise it’ll be fine. He probably knows a fair a bit already from what he hears at school,” Valeria said as Draco pinched the skin between his brows. “What didn’t you have such talks with the boys back in school?”

“You really think conversations with Crabbe and Goyle were remotely…educational? God, Scorpius is doomed…”

“You’re being a tad bit dramatic about this. You should consider yourself a very lucky man if this is the hardest thing you have to do was a father.”

“Yes, I know, darling. You’re right about everything as always…”

Christmas morning passed without much incident. Christmas mornings with the Malfoys were always quiet but filled with comforting blitheness that Scorpius always held quite dear. His parents’ gifts were both expensive and thoughtful this year as always and all their spirits were light. Even as the family prepared to visit Malfoy Manor for the afternoon and evening, there was little tension to be found, as often was felt when visiting the older Malfoys.

It was a pleasant visit with fine food and fine gifts from Scorpius’s grandparents, primarily new robes and such things. Narcissa gave Scorpius heaps of his favorite treats, which Valeria warned him not to eat all in one sitting. As the evening wore on, the family split apart. Valeria and Narcissa occupied themselves with mundane conversation and Draco had made a trip to the Manor library in search of a rare book for his hobbies. Scorpius opted to walk off the hearty meal they had shared and overstuffed himself with.

Scorpius knew the halls of Malfoy Manor well, having explored them throughout his childhood. He was fascinated with its history, the mysteries and he was quite proud that one day it would be his. But now, knowing what secrets he kept himself and his minor delve into dark deeds for the right reasons, he felt small under the pressure of such an ancient legacy. Winters, Black, Malfoy; All these longstanding bloodlines converging in him.

He wandered aimlessly through some of the corridors, wondering to himself what happened in them throughout the decades, even the centuries. He knew enough about the Second Wizarding War to know that the Dark Lord himself had taken Malfoy Manor for his headquarters, a fact that he often forgot, knowing it only to be the home of his elderly grandparents. That would be his legacy too, once the Manor was someday in his possession.

He found himself in the empty, but pristinely decorated, entrance hall. In the dim lighting, the brightest being the chandelier overhead, he could plainly see the hall lined with portraits of Malfoys past and present in the various styles present throughout the ages. Armand, Brutus, Septimus, Lucius I, Nicholas, Abraxas; all Malfoys with light hair and stern, pointed faces. There stood Scorpius at the end of the line, his legacy, his birthright laid out before him. He slowly stepped toward the most recent addition to the long line; His own parents.

He observed their youth. At the time the portrait was painted, they were barely older than him. His mother’s face had yet to be scarred and his father’s hair was just as short as his own. What drew him in most was the unsettling nature of their expressions. His mother looked as small as he felt now with his father’s left hand on her shoulder, his own face looking stark and aloof. It was as if the portrait was painted after a funeral. Valeria, the painted version of her, seemed to recognize Scorpius as a barely noticeable smile graced her face. The gilded plaque on the bottom of the ornate frame bore their names; _Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy and Mrs. Valeria Terpsichore Malfoy_.

They never told stories from that time and Scorpius had to wonder why. What could have possibly come over them to marry before they were even out of school? Scorpius couldn’t fathom the logic.

“Remarkable, isn’t it?”

Scorpius nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see his grandfather smiling warmly upon his approach.

“One day, you and your wife will have your own portrait beside them,” Lucius mused. The thought made Scorpius’s stomach lurch a little. He just wanted to get through the school year; The thought of a wife was completely foreign to him.

“It’s a long history to live up to…” Scorpius said, thinking aloud.

“Indeed, and one must be prepared to rise their purpose, as my father told me. Come with me a moment, I’d like to show you something,” Lucius said, gesturing for Scorpius to follow him.

“Right, of course,” Scorpius replied, knowing better than to deny Lucius, but also a bit curious. He was well aware of his grandfather’s bigotry and his longtime service as a Death Eater. Draco had been careful in Scorpius’s childhood to gently warn his son to ignore Lucius’s ravings. He had seldom been left alone with his grandfather, but he felt mature enough to handle it. He didn’t fear Lucius, he loved him as his grandfather, and Scorpius thought himself firm enough in his principles. Lucius led him through the drawing room and down into the cellar that he magically unlocked.

“Have I ever shown you the cellar before?” Lucius asked as they entered, magically illuminating the candles on tall, iron stands throughout the massive, cold, stone room.

“No, but I know of it,” Scorpius said. Draco had told him about the cellar where the Malfoys kept valuable artifacts and pieces of familial history.

“This is where I keep my most prized possessions,” Lucius began. Scorpius looked around, seeing all sorts of objects of various age and mystery on pedestals throughout. “Don’t touch anything without asking me first.” Scorpius obeyed as they moved deep into the room under the Manor until they finally stopped at one pedestal bearing only an ancient, ornately bound tome.

“You’re at a pivotal age, Scorpius, where you must start considering your place in the Malfoy legacy. The decisions you make through these will determine the man you are destined to become. Take a look,” Lucius said, gesturing to the book as he finished.

“ _Historia Malfoy_ ,” Scorpius read aloud from the book’s cover. 

“The Malfoy family histories. And do you know what this means here?” Lucius asked, directing Scorpius to the Latin below the Malfoy family crest on the book’s cover.

“ _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_. ‘Purity always conquers,’ right?”

“Correct again,” Lucius said proudly. He opened the book, but Scorpius only saw blank pages until Lucius pressed his wand to the page. Suddenly, an ornate gothic script appeared on the left page with an old sketch of a man on the right.

“Armand Malfoy, the man who first began building this very house,” Lucius said. He turned the pages, the many pages outlining the generations. “The Black family had a tapestry, we have this. Each entry is one of the leaders of this family, passed down through the centuries for us to add to. See, here’s mine, and here…” The page turned and Scorpius saw on the right side a simple, but accurate sketch of his father. On the left he read,

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

_5 June 1980—_

_Son of Lucius II and Narcissa (Black) Malfoy_

The elegant gothic script filled the page about halfway, outlining various points of Draco’s biography. Lucius quickly turned the page before Scorpius could read much detail. Scorpius was shocked to see his own name on the left page, the right was blank. Scorpius read,

_Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy_

_24 October 2005—_

_Son of Draco and Valeria (Winters) Malfoy_

_Sorted into Slytherin House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, September 2017_

“Much of your story has yet to be written, as you can see. I know your father and I have differences of opinion on what it means to uphold the legacy of this family, but I wanted you to see for yourself what it has meant, what has persevered through all the generations spanning a millennium. You said it was a lot to live up to, but as you grow, I think you will find that, since it has chosen you, it is up to you to own it as your own. Do you understand?”

“I think so, sir,” Scorpius said after a pause, unsure if he believed those words. His heart was filled with conflict. His father had nerve pressured him to do one thing or another based on his surname alone. Yet did he not have a duty to make something of himself? To serve his legacy, earn his place within it? He was unsure of what to do, overwhelmed. Lucius reached into his pocket and removed from it a small, velvet box.

“When your father was around your age, my own father Abraxas gave him his ring. Passed by grandfathers to grandsons, it is time for you to receive yours,” Lucius said. Scorpius tentatively took the small box from Lucius’s outstretched hand. He knew the ring his father wore well, silver colored with an engraved serpent wrapped around an _M_. Opening the box, Scorpius saw its twin inside.

“Sir, this is…Thank you,” Scorpius said, taken aback. He carefully removed it and placed it on his right index finger, admiring its glisten in the candlelight until Lucius put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Never forget who you are,” Lucius spoke low, as if it were an order. “Best keep our talk between us for now. Understood?”

Returning home to Wales was a relief for Valeria and Draco. Lucius had proudly proclaimed his passing on of the ring to Scorpius back at Malfoy Manor and while his parents didn’t say anything at the time, Scorpius saw a flash of memory and concern in Draco’s eyes. Valeria began directing Tilly about what to do with the gifts they brought back with them while Draco asked to speak to Scorpius in his study. Draco leaned on the desk, folding his arms while Scorpius sat before him.

“What did your grandfather say to you?” Draco asked. Scorpius didn’t answer immediately. He didn’t know what to say. “You’re not in trouble, Scorpius. I know I’m not always the…easiest to talk to, but I—I know how he can be.”

Scorpius knew his father loved him, though he could not be described as a particularly affectionate man. Scorpius looked up at Draco and could plainly see in the latter’s eyes genuine concern, perhaps even fear. There was something Draco was not fully disclosing, which was something that Scorpius, by this point, was quite familiar with when it came to his father.

“He just…told me about the Malfoy legacy. How I’d have a portrait too eventually and—”

Draco inhaled sharply at hearing about the portrait. “I understand. He said very similar things to me when I was young. He should not have put something that heavy on you. I’m sorry.”

Something about Draco’s demeanor made Scorpius curious. He sensed that his father was, for whatever reason, more open about the past than he usually was. Scorpius could not know the fear in Draco’s heart that a cycle was doomed to repeat itself. That he had failed as a father despite doing everything he thought was right for his family. That he saw so much of his childhood self in this young boy and it broke his heart a little to think of his son being subjected to the fraction of the pressures he experienced all those years ago.

“Is that why you became a…?”

“You can say the words, son.”

“Death Eater?” Scorpius still felt guilty about saying the words aloud, seeing his father tense ever so slightly as he folded his left arm under his right.

“It was extraordinarily complicated,” Draco said quietly after a pause to process. “But that was part of it. The last thing I want is for you to feel as though you have to live up to something that is too big for any one of us.”

“Do you care about the name, the legacy? You still wear the ring,” Scorpius said. Draco knew intuitively what the boy was really asking based on tone alone; _Do you think I’m worthy?_

“You are my son first. A Malfoy second. The name meant a great deal to me once. At least, I thought I knew what it meant and what I had to do to be a part of that legacy. I told your mother before you were born, and I stand by it still, that I don’t give a damn about any legacy. You should strive to be proud of the person you become, everything else comes later. Understand?”

“I think so…” Scorpius said, not knowing remotely who he was yet.

“It’ll come in time, maybe when you least expect it, and your mother and I will always be right behind you in everything.”

There was a soft knock at the door and Valeria walked in, smirking.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she said.

“Not at all,” Draco said. Valeria held up a small package and held it out to Scorpius.

“A rather hyperactive owl dropped off this special delivery for you,” she said. Scorpius looked at his name on the package and he smiled a little; he’d recognize that chicken-scratch handwriting anywhere. He unwrapped it and inside was a note reading,

_Scorpius,_

_Hope this reaches in time. I know you said you didn’t want or need anything, but Rose bugged me into giving you something. And Bulstrode delayed a lot getting this to me. Hope you had a good Christmas._

_-Albus_

Scorpius tucked the note away and unwrapped the gift itself. It was a framed photograph of Albus and Scorpius, smiling broader than ever, dressed in their Slytherin quidditch uniforms with their arms around each other’s shoulders. Scorpius remembered it being taken right before their first practice. He could not help but smile a little now.

“Who’s it from?” Draco asked.

“Albus.”

Valeria peered over her son’s shoulder to look at the picture. “Well, that was incredibly thoughtful. Show your father.” Scorpius handed the frame to Draco who laughed a little looking at it.

“Good Lord, he looks like Potter,” Draco said.

“Don’t you start,” Valeria teasingly warned.

“It’s uncanny, is all. I’ve got nothing against Albus. He has far more wit about him than his father did…” Draco said as Valeria snatched the photograph away.

“Be sure to put this up somewhere special, Scorpius.”

Scorpius set the photograph on the bedside table before he crawled into bed. Lying there, he found himself fiddling instinctively with the Malfoy ring on his finger before drifting off to sleep.


	13. The Struggles of Unification

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long, I'm sorry.

_“…And so, my dad and my aunt went back in time to save Buckbeak or something since it hurt that kid,” Albus lazily narrated, lounging in the compartment of the Hogwarts Express as they made the trek back for the Christmas holiday their first year of Hogwarts._

_“My dad, you mean?” Scorpius said with a little laugh._

_“Oh, right, sorry. I forget you’re related sometimes, no offense or anything.”_

_Scorpius laughed. “None taken.”_

_“Sorry if these stories are boring or whatever. I just hear them all the time. Uncle Ron especially never shuts up about them,” Albus said._

_“No, I like them! My parents don’t talk about Hogwarts much. I’m jealous. It was so exciting when they were our age. Now it’s just school…” Scorpius said._

_“Pfft, speak for yourself. Being sorted into Slytherin was exciting enough. But that’s normal for you, I guess.”_

_“Expected maybe. Father says school was boring. I’d like it be more like what your dad says. He sounds so cool…”_

_“He’s lame, I promise.”_

_“Still, it’d be cool to meet him someday, I think.”_

_“Why didn’t you say so? You can meet him when we get to London if you want,” Albus said casually._

_“Really?!” Scorpius said, already starstruck._

_“Sure. Then maybe you’ll see how boring he is and you’ll see what I mean.”_

_“What if he doesn’t like me?”_

_Albus sat up. “Why wouldn’t he like you? If he doesn’t, I’ll run away from home.” Scorpius laughed at that. “I mean it. If he doesn’t like my friends, that’s his loss.”_

_In London, the boys waited for the older students to get off the train first. It was easier to let the crowd go on ahead rather than try to fight their way through. Once off the train, Scorpius followed Albus to find the Potter family._

_“There they are,” Albus said. “They’re not hard to spot with all the Wealseys there.” Albus gestured for Scorpius to follow and the latter found himself quite anxious to meet Harry Potter for the first time. The man was a living legend long before Scorpius was even born. Mrs. Potter was the first to spot Albus, rushing over to hug him. Scorpius though was already mesmerized by Harry Potter, who stood, smiling with his family looking like an older version of Albus, who called his dad over._

_“Dad, this is my friend Scorpius. He wanted to say hi because he thinks you’re cool for some reason…” Albus said._

_“Albus…” Ginny scolded._

_“H—How do you do, sir?” Scorpius asked, a bundle of nerves. Harry looked surprised at first but softened._

_“Scorpius Malfoy, right?”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Blast from the past…You look very much like your dad,” Harry said, smiling friendlily, albeit awkwardly. “It’s good to meet you. Albus has told us a lot about you in his letters. I’m glad he’s found a friend in Slytherin.”_

_“Slytherin sucks!” James called out, standing over by his uncle Ron Weasley._

_“Kick rocks, James!” Albus called back, louder. Ginny scolded the boys, but Harry laughed._

_“Scorpius!”_

_All looked up, Draco Malfoy approached quickly and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder._

_“Where’ve you been? Your mother’s convinced herself you fell off the train and are wandering around Scotland as we speak—” Draco began gently._

_“Malfoy,” Harry Potter greeted awkwardly, his tone noticeably shifting. Draco looked up at the sound of that voice, going a bit pale with how taken aback the sudden encounter was. Draco stood tall, stiffening._

_“Potter. You look well,” Draco said._

_“As do you.”_

_There was a figurative eon of silence._

_“Father, this is my friend Albus. I told you about him in my letters,” Scorpius said, piping up to diffuse the awkwardness._

_“A pleasure,” Draco said, tone sincere to Albus._

_“Scorpius!”_

_A woman’s voice this time, Scorpius knew it to be his mother’s. Before he could turn around to see her, she already had her arms around him, practically smothering him in her embrace._

_“You mustn’t frighten us like that,” she began, though Draco had a mind to tell her that she was the only one truly frightened. “And what’s become of your hair?”_

_“Valeria…” Draco hissed quietly while she began fussing with Scorpius’s hair. She looked up, seeing the Potter family. In an instant, she stood straight and tall, her signature air of sophistication overcoming her. It was a bit scary how easily she could switch._

_“Potter, good to see you. You as well, Ginny,” Valeria said, but not even she could mask the lie._

_“Yeah, you too. It’s been quite some time,” Harry said._

_“Valeria, this is Scorpius’s friend, Albus,” Draco introduced._

_“Ah, yes. Scorpius wrote about you. It’s good to put a face to the name,” Valeria said warmly._

_“Have you said your goodbyes, Scorpius? We should set off. Dinner will be ready soon,” Draco said._

_“Right. I’ll write, Albus,” Scorpius said._

_“Me too!” Albus said. The boys quickly embraced before Scorpius walked away with his parents. He noted the adults hardly said a word of goodbye to each other._

_“I’m sorry for running off. I just wanted to meet Harry Potter,” Scorpius said._

_“Nothing to worry about, son. I told your mother you were probably just off with friends. Now you can say you’ve met the famous Harry Potter,” Draco said. Valeria nudged Draco with her elbow. He said the surname with the same intonation he did in youth._

_“Albus told me about the time his dad and aunt went back in time to save that Hippogriff that grandfather tried to have killed!” Scorpius said with a naïve excitement. Draco nearly tripped as he stopped dead in his tracks. Valeria burst into laughter._

_“What else has that boy told you?”_

_“Is it true that the Hippogriff kicked you?” Scorpius asked curiously._

_“It did and he deserved it,” Valeria said._

_“I did not!”_

_“It’s a great story, Scorpius. He walked around in a sling for weeks pretending he couldn’t do his homework, trying to get all the girls to feel sorry for him…”_

_“Val…”_

_“But he couldn’t fool me, no. I figured it out pretty quickly,” Valeria said._

_“You **hit** me on the arm…” Draco said, grouchy._

_“And it didn’t hurt, did it?”_

_“What happened next?!” Scorpius asked easily._

_“That’s enough with stories for today,” Draco insisted._

“Care to explain how the seating arrangements were assigned?” Draco asked Valeria, leaning in to whisper in her ear, his tone low in his drawl. Fortunately, the air was full of cheerful chatter and the playing of live classical music also aided in drowning out Draco’s complaints from unintended listeners.

“I had no part in it,” Valeria said, peering around the table as dinner was to shortly begin. “If I did, we’d be elsewhere.”

Scorpius was also not pleased with the table assignments. Albus, and the rest of the Potter family, were seated on the far side of the Ministry atrium, which had been outfitted as a ballroom for the purposes of the Unification Gala. The décor was nothing short of impressive, surely his mother’s doing. Deep greens, gold and silver colors shone all about. Garlands floated high above them in the holiday spirit. The napkins were maroon and white ice sculptures great historical witches and wizards were on the sides of the room. Little branches of mistletoe floated about the room, enchanted to find couples and hover above them until they shared a kiss.

But Scorpius’s eyes were elsewhere. He and Albus had been sharing glances and making silly faces at each since they were first seated far away from one another. Albus balanced a fork on his nose, his parents far too engrossed in their own conversations to notice. It fell with a spectacular clang onto the floor and Scorpius nearly spit out his pumpkin juice, coughing to clear his throat. His father raised an eyebrow at him; Scorpius hated that look and Draco was more on edge than Scorpius had likely ever seen him.

“You alright, son?”

“Yeah,” Scorpius coughed. “Fine.” He tried to smile politely, but his eyes had watered, and his face went pink, trying to stifle the coughs.

“Are you sure? If you’re not feeling well, I can take you home,” Draco said.

“No, really—”

“And I’d better probably stay home with you too, just to be safe,” Draco said again.

“I promise, I’m fi—”

“Perhaps some extract of Snigglyfor bile would help,” Luna Scamander said, peeking her head around Valeria, whom she sat beside, to look at Scorpius.

“I’m afraid that I’m fresh out. Seems Scorpius will have to endure on his own,” Draco drawled with thick sarcasm. He grunted a little as Valeria kicked his shin a little under the table.

“Thank you, Luna,” Valeria said politely, but Scorpius could easily tell how much it pained her to say as she gripped her wine glass with an iron grasp. The Scamanders were quite odd indeed. Hagrid had mentioned the Scamanders’ work many times in Care of Magical Creatures, a class Scorpius hated, but Albus took in stride. Luna wore a giant headdress of a Christmas tree atop her head the size of a small bush and decorated with lights and ornaments. It was a smaller scale version of the massive Christmas tree in the Ministry atrium.

Rolf, the husband, was the most normal of the family. He had an aloof smile on his face the entire time but was animated about his latest discovery of a type of cockroach that could turn into a flower. He had apparently given one to his wife as a present, which she apparently adored. The tale made Scorpius’s skin crawl. Their two boys were quiet and polite, younger than Scorpius and being his age, he had no interest in making close friends with eleven-year-olds. An elderly man, Horace Slughorn sat at their table as well, looking just as uncomfortable as Draco was.

“Mrs. Scamander, your work is as…fascinating as ever. Mrs. Malfoy, I’d be quite interested to hear more about your independent studies,” Slughorn said. Scorpius, sitting between his parents looked over towards where the Potters were sat again. He saw Albus poke James in the arm with his fork and receiving a kick to the leg of his chair in return. Scorpius laughed again and his eyes wandered as his mother blabbered on, his gaze landing on Rose near the front of the tables with her family. She looked lovely, he had to admit. Her midnight blue robes sparkled with silvery threads and embroidery throughout. He pulled a little on his own collar, which aggravated his throat. His own dress robes were apparently the latest fashion, according to his mother, but he felt he looked like he was wearing a vampire costume, despite “how handsome” Valeria insisted he looked.

But to Scorpius’s great dismay, nearly making him lose his appetite, Rose was seated beside Thomas Winslow, who looked far too proud of himself to be there. Winslow and Rose appeared to be the only two of their age at the gala who were remotely enjoying themselves. Scorpius looked back to Albus, who had noticed Rose and Winslow as well. Albus made a disgusted gagging face which made Scorpius laugh again. Before either of his parents could scold him for not paying attention to the conversation, Slughorn spoke up.

“And how about you, young man? I’m curious about the goings-on at Hogwarts from the perspective of a current student. How are your studies? Do you have a favorite subject?” Slughorn asked.

“I like Quidditch the best, I think,” Scorpius said, not knowing what to say and quite nervous, knowing who the man was. Slughorn laughed. 

“A tried-and-true answer for a boy your age, I imagine,” Slughorn said.

“My son is being modest. He’s top of his year in Potions, aren’t you, Scorpius?” Valeria asked.

“That’s wonderful!” Slughorn said, delighted. “I have no doubt of your aptitude given your mother’s talents back in school.”

“Yes, it was quite easy to be overlooked attending Potions class with Valeria,” Draco said, trying to mask his snide.

“I’m sure. Are you planning in following in your mother’s footsteps?” Slughorn asked, looking eagerly at Scorpius. Scorpius clammed up. He remembered the brew going in the Chamber of Secrets as they spoke. He was already guilty of practicing dark magic, certainly rivaling if not surpassing, his own parents’ antics when they were his age. What was he to say?

“I haven’t really thought on it, to be perfectly honest,” he answered bashfully. It was the truth, for the most part.

“And there is plenty of time for him to determine that for himself,” Draco said.

“Naturally, naturally. I certainly hope Professor Farley is nurturing your interest in Potions. You did not hear it from me, but I was more than a little disappointed that you didn’t go out for the position yourself, Mrs. Malfoy,” Slughorn said.

“I’m afraid teaching has never been of much interest to me,” Valeria said. Scorpius could sense something passing between the adults at the table that he didn’t understand, nor did he care to decipher what they were saying. It took all of his strength not to stare at Rose, whose hair had been done-up in the most elegant curls he had ever seen…

“May I have your attention, please?” All turned, on a stage before the tables stood Dean Thomas magically amplifying his voice with his wand. “On behalf of the Ministry Committee for the Improvement of Wizarding Relations, I’d like to welcome all of you to the first annual Unification Gala. We on the committee have worked long and hard to construct this evening from the ground up and I speak on behalf of all members when I say we are grateful for your attendance. To start us off, I invite to the stage a woman who needs no introduction. Ladies and gentlemen, Hermione Granger-Weasley, Minister of Magic.”

A round of applause erupted when Hermione took the stage, and all watched with eager eyes and anticipatory ears as Hermione took the stage with a proud smile. She hugged Dean before he took his seat and she magically amplified her voice.

“Thank you, Dean. I too humbly welcome you to the Unification Gala; the beginning of a tradition I hope will remain for many years to come. It has been nearly twenty-five years since the wizarding world faced its darkest times. All of us who remember, deeply know the pain and the suffering incurred on both sides of the Second Wizarding War. In that time, since the fall of the darkness, we have mourned, we have rebuilt. I look around the Ministry every day and marvel at the strength of my colleagues, peers and friends throughout all these years. The purpose of this event is not simply to remember the war, nor mourn what we’ve lost, but to celebrate what we’ve rebuilt from the rubble. We are to make friends, encourage more prosperity and to stand as a united community against anything that would threaten to tear it all asunder. I would like to thank all you once more and the Ministry Committee for the Improvement of Wizarding Relations. I must especially thank Valeria Malfoy, who went above and beyond in the planning of this event. Where are you, Valeria?”

Valeria stood and Scorpius watched as the room applauded his mother, who smiled and waved before returning to her seat.

“Without further ado, I welcome all of you to eat, drink and be merry. Thank you.”

Another round of applause and as soon as Hermione ended her speech, food magically appeared on the tables all around them.

“About time…” Draco said under his breath, which made Scorpius laugh.

Scorpius was thankful for dinner, giving him an excuse not to make small talk and the food was quite divine. The adults continued their chatter while they ate. Scorpius glanced over to the Potter table, but Albus wasn’t looking back at him. Albus’s father was scolding him about something, from what Scorpius could gather, and he noticed Albus’s mother cleaning some sort of sauce out young Lily’s hair while James snickered. As dinner came to a close, the attendees were invited to mingle and peruse the silent auction as the dining area was cleared to make room for a dance floor.

“Can I can go find Albus?” Scorpius asked his parents.

“I think you’ve earned a break,” Valeria said with a soft smile.

“Haven’t we all?” Draco asked.

“Stop whining, you’re fine,” she said with a laugh. She snaked her arm around his. “Let’s go talk to Justin Finch-Fletchy. He’s been on a mission to create standards for international exchange rates of wizarding currency—”

“Who?”

“We went to school with him, Draco, over there. Look,” Valeria said, gesturing towards the man.

“Oh, yeah, I couldn’t stand him…”

“Have Scorpius, stay out of trouble. We’ll find you later,” Valeria said before practically dragging Draco away, leaving Scorpius on his own. He scanned the area, searching for Albus. He saw Albus, over by the elevators, frantically gesturing for Scorpius’s attention. Scorpius made his way over there quickly, embracing his friend.

“God, I thought that would never end! This is so damn boring,” Albus complained. He reached into his robes, similar to Scorpius’s, and pulled out a key. “Check out what I managed to get.”

“What’s that for?”

“It’s for one of the Ministry employee lounges. James got it off dad’s desk and I got it by trading James my desert. We can just hang out in there all night when our parents won’t miss us,” Albus said excitedly. Scorpius had a mind to scold Albus for yet another haphazard plan involving thievery, but he found himself excited about the idea.

“The way my father’s been drinking, it won’t be long before he fails to notice I’m not around,” Scorpius said. “But I have to wait until my mother’s speech is done.”

“Right. We’ll make a break for it during the dancing part. Mum’s making me dance with my sister, so I have to wait anyway. It’s so weird and stupid!” Albus stopped. “Looks like someone is trying to get your attention.”

Scorpius turned. There was Rose by one of the refreshments tables, waving at them. Scorpius felt his throat grow dry as he shyly waved back and smiled. He was about to take a brave step forward when Winslow approached her and took her attention away.

“Sorry, mate. All she’s been doing is gushing about how much she’s looking forward to tonight. I don’t get what she sees in that guy,” Albus said.

“I brought her Christmas gift with me. I didn’t even think of the fact that he would be here. Stupid on my part,” Scorpius said with a sigh. He hid her gift within his robes and it was just small enough to do so comfortably.

“Well, if she ever has a second alone again, don’t waste your chance,” Albus said.

“Maybe. We’ll see,” Scorpius said. The two of them chatted idly for a while, wandering around the edge of the mingling crowd and perusing the silent auction, which was of little interest to them. Albus was in the middle of yet another story of his antics at home when Draco approached.

“There you are, Scorpius. Your mother is getting ready to speak. Albus, it’s good to see you again,” Draco said. To Scorpius’s surprise, Draco was in an almost friendly mood, if his tone was any metric to judge by. Scorpius suspected wine was the culprit.

“You too, sir,” Albus said, shaking Draco’s extended hand.

“And how are you liking the hair products Scorpius gifted you? I had to admit, I was skeptical when he first told me…” Draco said. Scorpius panicked as his father’s words faded to a mumble in his mind. He looked to Albus, staring in blinking confusion.

_JUST GO WITH IT_ , Scorpius mouthed dramatically and desperately to his friend.

“Oh, yeah! They’re great, really great. Do great things for my hair, mmhmm,” Albus said.

“Well, seems I must admit I was wrong. Good creative problem-solving on your part, son,” Draco said. “I’ll return him to you soon, Albus, I promise. Come, Scorpius.”

Scorpius mouthed a _Thank You_ to a still bewildered Albus as he walked away with his father. They joined his mother who was talking with the Minister quietly and going over her notes. Draco and Scorpius stood politely to the side, waiting and Draco’s tension was beginning to rub off on Scorpius. Was he really supposed to stand there while his mother talked to all the most respectable people in their corner of their world without getting nervous? It was apparently the Minister’s idea to have the whole family onstage during the speech, to present a sort of united front; A new and improved Malfoy family.

But then again, his parents hardly spoke about their past during the Second Wizarding War. Maybe his mother’s words would actually illuminate something.

Hermione went on ahead to gather the crowd back to the area in order to introduce Valeria as the next speaker. The Malfoys were off to the side and Draco began rubbing Valeria’s shoulders as they awaited their cue.

“You’re going to do great. You’re a Winters, you can do this in your sleep,” Draco whispered loud enough for Scorpius to hear.

“I’ve been a Malfoy since I was seventeen,” she replied with a little smirk.

“You’re a Winters, through and through,” he said.

“…hence, why the goal of the Ministry Committee for the Improvement of Wizarding Relations to encourage comradery between wizards and witches from all backgrounds and walks of life. Observing that hate had to end somewhere, I sought out many years ago to establish this group to tear down fences, build bridges and mend wounds. Upon personal request from myself, I’ve asked our next guest to speak to you all as someone who had to do the difficult work of turning away from darkness. She has served on the committee since its humble beginnings. She is an accomplished Potions Master, a writer on magical philosophy, a humble philanthropist and, in my opinion, an unsung heroine of the Second Wizarding War. Please join me in welcoming, accompanied by her husband and son, Mrs. Valeria Malfoy,” Hermione spoke.

That was their cue. Scorpius followed behind his parents to the stage where Valeria shook the Minister’s hand before taking her place at the podium as the audience politely applauded. Scorpius and Draco stood at either side of Valeria and Scorpius was grateful that the crowd was hard to see in the bright, magical lights that illuminated the stage.

“You humble me, Madam Minister,” Valeria began. “I’d like to thank the Minister as well as the Ministry at large for their invitation to speak to you all, as well as my colleagues on the Ministry Committee for the Improvement of Wizarding Relations. I was born into a world that harbored a hatred, masked in prestige and tradition, that I did not fathom the depths of until it was far too late. It was a hatred that eventually led to the destruction of my family; My mother widowed after my father died for the cause. I too lost my brother, who made the wrong choices, including sacrificing his secret love for a muggleborn girl, for the right reasons and died for my protection and for love of his family. On several occasions, I nearly lost my husband. Quite often I feared that I had lost myself. The Minister flatters me, but I must graciously object to her assertion of my heroism as I feel that every decision I made was out of necessity, to keep my head above water, and many of those decisions were the wrong ones. I once told someone, all those years ago, that it was far easier to make the right choices when everyone around you is making them too. It is my deep hope and most sincere goal that no one should ever have to find themselves in a position like mine. That we surround ourselves, the youth in particular, with those making the right choices so that good becomes a bit easier. There is still tension amongst traditionalist circles, I will not deny that. However, I remain hopeful that as our work continues and new traditions are born, there will someday be no need for this committee, as a philosophy of unification will be inherent in all of our ways of life.”

Valeria ended her speech to sincere applause as she thanked the audience for listening and Scorpius was surprised by how intently he listened to his mother. He felt a little guilty to have thought about standing at her side as a tedious chore.

“You did great, just like I said,” Draco said after embracing her.

“Thanks for being there. I know we weren’t too thrilled about it…” she said quietly.

“After all this time, you better know damn well that I’d never leave you all on your own. Ever,” he said, practically whispering. She turned to Scorpius and smiled warmly at him before embracing him too.

“I know that was probably embarrassing for you, I’m sorry. But you being there with me, the both of you, means a lot to me,” she said.

“Of course,” Scorpius said quietly. It was a rare moment in a Scorpius’s life, perhaps rare for any teenager, but for him especially, that he was aware of how much he loved his family. As dull and weird as he thought them to be most days, there were moments like this when he would not have it any other way. When he was grateful that these two people were his parents. When he was proud to be called Malfoy.

His parents gave him permission to find his friends or otherwise meander as he pleased, within reason, and Scorpius immediately sought out Albus. The dancing portion of the evening was set to begin at any moment. Albus had sought out Scorpius too, eager to get away from his family once again.

“That was a good speech,” Albus said, genuinely. “It’s kind of cool to hear straight from people who were on the other side. I didn’t know that about your uncle and the muggleborn girl.”

“Neither did I,” Scorpius said. At least, if it had ever been mentioned, he couldn’t recall. “I didn’t look too stupid up there, did I?”

“The bright light made you look like you had a bald spot, like a monk, at one point,” Albus said. Scorpius’s face twisted in horror. “I’m kidding! You looked fine. Your dad somewhat looked like he was trying not to fart, though.”

Scorpius laughed. “He kind of always looks like that.”

“Yeah, mine too. Come on, let’s go hide by the refreshments for now. Maybe I can avoid Lily long enough to slip away and we can go exploring,” Albus said. Scorpius followed his friend’s lead as the music picked up and the dancing begun. “Oh, God…are those my parents out there? That’s so bloody embarrassing. And look, photographers gawking as usual.”

Indeed, Scorpius looked out to see the Potters dancing. “If Fiona were here, you could be out with ‘em.”

“That’s the only good thing about her not being here. She’d absolutely drag me to dance if she had the chance. I’ve never danced a day in my life,” Albus said.

“Sounds like you might have to learn, if Fiona has any say in it. I can show you a trick or two, if you want,” Scorpius said.

“Only if it’s publicly. We go out there and dance,” Albus said.

“No way! You’d smash all the bones in my foot, the way you stomp around.”

“That’s what I tried telling Lily!” Albus said. He looked at the dancers again. “Looks like your parents have taken to dancing too. Now you can feel my humiliation.” Scorpius looked out and indeed the elder Malfoys were dancing. They were doing far more than many of the others. They spun, Draco even lifted his wife a little off the floor to the music and they didn’t have to look down at their feet when they moved at all. “They’re showing off, look. Wow, they actually look…happy.”

“They’re not miserable people, Albus,” Scorpius said with a laugh.

“I know, but they’re always so serious and formal with each other, y’know? They actually look like…like in love or whatever.”

“Gross,” Scorpius said as he cringed. The two joked around for a few more minutes when Lily, decked out in purple robes, stomped over to the boys.

“Mum says you have to dance now,” she stated.

Albus rolled his eyes. “Can’t you just get James to do it?”

“Mum says you have to!”

“Lily…”

“I’ll tell dad!”

“Okay, alright fine. One song, that’s it. I’ll catch you in a bit, mate,” Albus said, dragging his feet as he left with his sister.

“Have fun,” Scorpius teased. He occupied himself briefly with another cup of pumpkin juice and awaited the return of his friend, but not before nearly spilling it all over himself when Rose suddenly approached him. She looked even nicer up close.

“Can I ask for a dance?” she said.

Scorpius blinked, dumbfounded. “What?”

“When you showed me how to dance, remember? Seems to me that a gentleman should be the one to ask a girl to dance, so I’m now asking you to ask me to dance,” she said cheerfully.

“With me?”

“Who else am I talking to?”

“I, uh, what about Winslow…?”

“Oh, he’s off talking to Clarence Boot for some reason. Besides, you’re the better dancer. Come on, please?”

Scorpius was reluctant for reasons he didn’t understand, but he was not about to pass up an opportunity to spend time with her. He set down his drink, stood up tall and straight before giving her a bow and offering his hand, in a bit of a silly manner. “Rose, may I have a dance?”

She laughed and curtseyed, albeit a bit uncoordinated and put her hand in his. Her hand was soft, Scorpius noted, and his stomach fluttered a little as they made their way over to the floor and the sea of dancers.

She remembered form, taking his hand in her and her other placed gently on his shoulder. Slowly he placed his hand on her waist, as lightly as he could. He was trying not to blush. Perhaps this was a terrible idea. The song was slow making for an easy start.

“Don’t look at your feet,” Scorpius gently reminded.

“I’ll trip and fall if I don’t.”

“No, you won’t,” he said. The first few steps were awkward, but they slowly found their stride.

“Your mum’s speech was moving. They must have been through a lot,” she said politely, as if trying to make some sort of conversation. They turned.

“They don’t talk about it much. I don’t think they like remembering.”

“Maybe they don’t want to give those memories to you either. I feel that way sometimes with my family.”

“Maybe,” he said. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his parents or their history during the war. “You look really nice tonight.”

“Thanks. The robes were a gamble. You don’t think they’re too bold?”

“Not at all,” he said. A reflection caught his eye and he glanced at her right wrist adorned with a shiny bracelet, with clear stones. “That’s nice too.”

“A Christmas gift from Thomas,” she said. Suddenly Scorpius felt stupid again. He remembered the gift tucked securely in his robes and how it was just silly compared to Thomas’s. He hadn’t even thought of getting Rose jewelry, he had never really seen her wear any. Before he could think of something to say, the music changed to a more upbeat waltz.

“This might be a little fast for me,” Rose said.

“Just follow my lead,” Scorpius said with a smirk.

“When I embarrass myself, don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she joked. He brought a little closer, still a chaste distance, but closer all the same. Scorpius took control of the dance and was perhaps trying a bit too hard to be impressive. As they moved around the room, waltzing, he felt his heart flutter a bit each time she would smile and laugh. It was a wonderful time and Rose considered herself lucky to have a competent dance partner, but Scorpius considered himself the luckiest for having the chance at all.

A bow from him and another somewhat uncoordinated curtsey from her concluded the dance as they caught their breath.

“You’re a bit of a showoff, aren’t you?” she said.

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said with a smirk.

“That was miserable!”

Both turned, scooting off to the side to make room for other dancers. Albus, disheartened with a long face.

“She said only one song, which I should have known would turn into three, and then complains that I’m dancing wrong. What did she expect?!” Albus took a pause. “What are you two up to?”

“You didn’t see us out there? Scorpius is a great dancer, Albus, you could learn a thing or two,” Rose said.

“Hard pass. I’ve had enough of dancing for at least a decade,” Albus said. He sneakily removed the key from his pocket once again. “Ready?”

“What’s that for?” Rose asked.

“One of the lounges upstairs. We’re going to go chill out there,” Albus said. “Why? You’re not going to tattle are you?”

Rose was offended. “No…But my mum said this is a really important event and you shouldn’t just run off.”

“We’ve been wining and dining for hours. Our parents are all half-drunk anyway, they won’t even notice we’re gone. Now let’s get the hell out of here before—”

“Albus!”

The three turned. Lily was once again marching towards them.

“What do you want?” Albus asked.

“Mum wants to talk to you,” Lily said.

“Why!?”

“Because I told her you were being grumpy while dancing,” Lily said snottily before turning on her heels and marching away.

Albus tilted his head back and let out a dramatic, angry groan. He tossed the key to Scorpius before skulking away. “Third floor. I’ll meet you there.”

Left to his own devices, Scorpius looked at Rose. “Thanks for asking me to ask you to dance.”

“Thanks for asking me,” she said. “You going to run off and brood?”

“I don’t brood.”

“You’re always brooding.”

“You can join us if you want,” Scorpius said with a shrug. He didn’t know why he said, it sort of fell out of his mouth. “I mean unless you need to find Winslow or something.”

Rose looked around the room and sighed. “I don’t where he even is.” She considered for a moment. “You know what, alright. I’ll come with. It’ll be interesting to see the Ministry when it’s empty.”

“Good because I have no idea where this room even is,” Scorpius said. Trying not to look suspicious, they made their way to the elevators and Rose took the lead in getting them to the right floor. Once the doors opened, she grabbed Scorpius by the wrist and they moved quickly through the empty halls of the Ministry, insisting that they could still be caught by Ministry security measures if they weren’t careful and fast. Their shoes clacked loudly against the floor and they could help but laugh in a childish sort of way, their robes billowing out around them as they ran.

Scorpius unlocked the door once Rose pointed out which one it was. The room was stuffy inside and they were warm from running around the halls, so they left the door slightly ajar; Closed but not fully latched. The room had an air of modern stateliness, with plush armchairs, a fireplace and a small kitchen-like area off to the side. On the tables sat neat stacks of newspapers, newsletters and magazines. Scorpius plopped down on a sofa, stretching his legs out and shedding the heavy outer layer of his dress robes; a fashionable cape. Rose sat opposite him as she caught her breath.

“Think your mum hangs out in here?” Scorpius asked.

“I don’t think she ever lounges. Besides, her office has its own sofa and what not. You were right, it’s nice to get a quiet break from all the excitement. I’d hate to bug you and Albus though…” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You two are always acting secretive, like you’re plotting something,” Rose said. Scorpius sat up, nervous. She’d noticed him and Albus whispering together during school. How much of the plot in the Chamber of Secrets did she know about? Her suspicions sent pangs of anxiety through him again.

“It might look that way, but we’re not plotting anything except maybe Quidditch strategies,” Scorpius said.

“I guess I feel left out sometimes. Albus and I were close as kids, but when he was sorted into Slytherin it changed. You all are so close and everything.” 

“Sorry. He’s no different than he used to be, I promise. Slytherin’s got this long history of keeping to themselves. It’s a tough habit to break, I guess.”

“Gryffindor isn’t much better that way, to be honest. Would you go to another house, if you had a chance?”

“No,” Scorpius insisted. “I genuinely like it in Slytherin. It feels like being a part of something bigger than yourself. You?”

“Maybe. I think Gryffindor might be too big for me…”

There was an awkward pause that passed between them. Rose was looking away, lost in thought. Rose always looked so strong to Scorpius, so sure of herself at school. She carried herself in such a way that he was drawn to her, like maybe he could be that way too, like he was supposed to be. Was he supposed to be? He didn’t know, but his heart dropped seeing her that way, but he didn’t want to pressure her to share.

He sat up with his feet on the floor and reached into his robes, removing the box he had been carrying around all night. He wrapped himself meticulously, not asking for his mother’s magical assistance. He was a bit proud of it, but he still felt kind of stupid, hesitant to even give it to her at all.

“I…I, uh, got something for you,” he said, holding it out to her. Her face lit up with a surprised smile and she gently took it. “It’s just a little thing, since you got me something. Feel free to do whatever you want with it if you don’t like it.”

She began unwrapping it slowly and delicately, eventually finding the gift within. She smiled at him again and it made his heart flutter once more. “A hair kit.”

“Not because your hair is bad or anything. You just complain about it sometimes during Quidditch and I thought…maybe this would help. It might not though, I don’t know anything about girls’ hair…” he rambled. But she stood and gave him a friendly hug.

“Thank you, Scorpius. This is really nice.”

“You’re welcome…”

“There you are!”

Rose quickly stood and turned. Scorpius stood too and saw Clarence boot accompanied by Thomas Winslow enter the room. Scorpius’s stomach dropped.

“What are you too doing in here all alone?” Clarence asked.

“We were just getting away from all the fuss for a bit,” Rose said, going to Winslow.

“With _him_?” Winslow asked, pretending to keep his voice down, but making sure Scorpius heard. Scorpius took that as his cue and collected his cape from the back of the sofa.

“What’s gotten into you!?” Rose asked.

“I don’t know, maybe hearing how my girlfriend was dancing with someone else and disappeared with him put me in a sour mood,” Winslow said.

“Really?! It was just a dance and we’re in here waiting for Albus. Don’t be stupid,” Rose said defiantly. Scorpius was skirting the edge of the room towards the door and he was almost there when Clarence stepped in front of him.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Clarence asked.

“Unlike you, I can take a hint that I’ve overstayed my welcome,” Scorpius snapped back.

Clarence laughed. “If you ask me, you people shouldn’t be here at all.”

“Clare—” Rose began.

But Scorpius felt his blood begin to boil. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mummy gave a cute speech, but anyone can see through the charade. The Malfoys worming their way into society again…”

“You do realize that his mum practically put this entire thing together right?” Rose pointed out.

“Come on, Rose, think. Why would their lot care about uniting the wizarding world after all these years? My dad’s always said those people were wolves in sheep’s clothing…” Clarence said.

“If you have a complaint, take it up with the aurors. Otherwise, I’ll be on my way. Nice talking to you, Rose,” Scorpius said, taking a step forward, but was stopped by Clarence again.

“You think you’re so clever. Pulling shady tricks at school to get me in trouble—”

“Still mad about that, are you? Blame yourself for being so easy to trick,” Scorpius said with a sneer.

“You can stand there with your money, your Death Eater daddy and play as nice as you want. Your mum can try to dupe the entire Ministry, but there are plenty of us who know the truth,” Clarence spat.

“And what would that be?”

“For one thing, however your mum got that ugly scar on her face, she deserved it—”

That was the final straw.

All hell broke out as Scorpius lunged at Clarence. Rose was yelling, but Scorpius was far too enraged to hear what she said. Scorpius managed to land a couple punches before Winslow, being bigger and stronger than Scorpius, pulled him off of Clarence. Scorpius got out of the older boy’s grip and gave him a right hook too while Clarence got to his feet and Rose continued to yell. Clarence was mere inches from Scorpius when the former was yanked back.

“What the hell is going on, Scorpius?!” Albus asked, struggling to restrain Clarence. Before Scorpius could answer, Winslow was coming at him again, but Rose stepped in between them pushing them away from each other.

“Stop this, all of you!” she cried out. The rage in her tone was enough to get everyone to stand still, Albus reluctantly let go of Clarence.

“I can’t believe you! All of you, acting like animals. I’m going back down to the gala, feel free to kill each other, but I won’t be a part of it!” Rose began to walk off, but Scorpius, feeling dreadfully guilty, reached for her.

“Rose, wait. I—” but as she pulled her hand away from his, his fingers got caught in her bracelet. The force of her pulling away caused it to snap, scattering jewel stones everywhere.

“Rose, I’m so sorry. I’ll have it fixed right away—” Scorpius started.

“You little shi—” Winslow said through his teeth, taking a step towards Scorpius.

“What is this?”

All four teenagers looked toward the doorway. Harry Potter with tense shoulders and furrowed brow looked angrily at all of them.

“Shit,” Albus muttered.


	14. Rewards and Consequences

_Draco Malfoy had considered it very wise of him to purchase shares of some of the largest publishing houses in the wizarding world. He was grateful for the ability to do so, as there was no way for him, at least for now, to hold much influence by name alone. After the war’s end, he knew it would not be long until all manner of self-proclaimed wordsmith scribbled on countless parchment pages the events of the Second Wizarding War._

_Draco had no moral qualms with writing politely, but firmly, written letters reminding these publishers and editors of how grieved he would be to pull his financial investment in the event that certain unsavory details of his and Valeria’s involvement in the war went to print. In fact, such an act felt second nature to him in a mildly disquieting way. The Malfoys had always been good at wriggling their way out of such troubles. Indeed, he felt like quite the Malfoy as he looked at those letters, his name in dark, bold letters and a severe font. It made him feel like his father._

_It was during the years after the war, following the Malfoys’ return to Wales, that Draco would look back upon fondly. He would not have traded Scorpius for all the world and could hardly imagine a world without him, but it was nice to remember those years. They were still young then. They were finding themselves, slowly but surely, once again. They slept in late and stayed up late. They laughed a lot. They filled their time with whatever they wanted. While the pain remained strong, it was slowly eroding by the relentless force of their bond. It was during this time, not four years or so after the war had ended, when the mail arrived one lazy morning._

_Valeria came to breakfast, still in her nightclothes and silken robe, with a few letters in hand and a brown-paper package._

_“What’s the damage today?” Draco asked. It was a running joke. Hardly anyone ever wrote them, save for a few friends every so often. Her eyes widened and she laughed a little before she held up a small magazine._

_“Look who made the cover of Luxurious Libations,” she said. He looked up at the magazine and saw them on the cover with the owners of the meadery the Winters family had heavily invested in for generations. The company’s annual anniversary party was one of the very few events they had ventured outside the house._

_“We look so…severe,” Draco said sneering a little at the picture._

_“I think we look sophisticated! Other than my face, of course,” Valeria said. It had been years, but Valeria was still not used to the scar on her face. She tried to hide her shame, of course, but Draco could easily see right through the charade. She had hardly been photographed since, but being a prominent benefactor of the meadery, she had little choice._

_“I don’t think you could avoid being the best-looking person in the room if you tried,” he said, flattering her, though to his mind it was the truth. “What else? Better not be that damn Hogwarts Alumni Association nonsense. I’d buy the school if it meant they’d never send us a letter again.”_

_“A package addressed to my father,” she said. She opened it to be met with a finely decorated book. “_ The Encyclopedia of Magical History on the British Isles, Volume 102.”

_Draco was familiar with the title. The Winters library housed the entire collection printed thus far, and the latest edition must have been without the recipient ever being updated. Valeria carefully opened the book to find that the primary subject matter was on the Second Wizarding War before passing it over to Draco for him to see._

_“Already history books…” Draco said with a sigh._

_“More to come, I’m sure,” she said as he flipped through the index, looking for their names. ‘Malfoy’ was listed many times, of course. Draco began to flip through and read aloud the entries on their own names. He was met with an encyclopedic article bearing his name in bold lettering, accompanied by a photograph. The same was true for Valeria._

_They read through the entries, thankfully the publisher had heeded his handwritten warnings not to publish too many painful details. Draco was as satisfied as he could be regarding the matter. Valeria tucked the book away with the other volumes and there it sat for many years._

_Until Scorpius was in his eighth year._

_Obsessed with reading and thinking himself far too old for storybooks, Scorpius sat for hours in the Winters library devouring what knowledge he could about the wizarding world. Much of the academic jargon escaped him, but he could keep up for the most part. He was thrilled to begin the next volume, knowing it would concern the events of the life of Harry Potter, whose name Scorpius knew well just based on how often he featured in_ The Daily Prophet _even still._

_He skipped to the index out of curiosity. He knew his parents were around for these events and to an extent he knew his family was somewhat involved. He was excited to find his father had his own article written about him in the encyclopedia and he laughed a little at the picture of his father in his youth. His curiosity turned to confusion when he read the words, **Death Eater**. _

_He flipped back and forth, referencing members of his family._

_‘Lucius Malfoy… **Death Eater**.’_

_‘Hieronymus Winters… **Death Eater**.’_

_‘Konstantin Winters… **Death Eater**.’ _

_‘Valeria Malfoy (née Winters)…married **Death Eater** Draco Malfoy…’ _

_Scorpius skipped back to the entry on Death Eaters._

_‘…Most ardent and loyal followers of Lord Voldemort…Was considered a great honor amongst supporters…Dark deeds second only to those of the Dark Lord himself…’_

_Scorpius shut the book when he was called for dinner. He had a vague, childlike, idea of his family’s past, but to see it so plainly laid out before his young eyes left him bewildered._

Scorpius was kicking himself in the present. Once again, he was in trouble in front of Harry Potter. It was bad enough to see his father’s stern, angry face with his jaw clenched, but to be sitting in the Minister’s office with the Minister herself and the families of all those involved, save for Winslow’s, was another degree of humiliation he certainly didn’t need. Clarence’s father had set his nose right after Scorpius’s punches. The Malfoy ring on Scorpius’s finger had also made small, shallow cuts in Clarence’s and Winslow’s skin, which were healed easily.

But Scorpius knew what he did not know; The wounds of those in this room were much older and ran much deeper.

“First that trick during Quidditch trials and now he’s escalated to beatings. If you can’t get that boy under control, Malfoy—” Mr. Boot began.

“I highly doubt my son would take on two other people in a muggle-duel all on his own without provocation,” Draco said.

“Got an issue with muggles, Malfoy?” Boot asked again.

“I never said anything remotely close to what you are implying or has your vocabulary comprehension faded with age?” Draco said.

“Draco…” Valeria scolded.

“We would have used magic if we could. And Scorpius wouldn’t have hit him if he didn’t deserve it!” Albus protested.

“Albus,” Harry Potter hissed.

“Care to explain why your son was alone in an off-limits area with my daughter!?” Ron said, nearly shouting.

“I already said we were just chatting and waiting for Albus!” Rose yelled; her face turned bright pink. Scorpius looked down to hide his own blushing.

“Rose, calm down,” Hermione said sternly.

“I will not calm down until you start listening to me!”

“Don’t speak to your mother like that,” Ron said as gently as he could while still sounding stern.

“But she’s right!” Albus said as he turned to Scorpius. “Come on, mate. You’ve got to tell them what happened.”

Valeria stepped forward and crouched down to look Scorpius in the eye, placing a comforting hand on his own. “It’s alright, Scorpius. If you were provoked, you can say so.” She spoke quietly and Scorpius looked at her, seeing the scar on his face. Clarence’s insult boiled his blood once more and he looked away from her in shame.

“He called father a Death Eater and…” he started.

“And what?” Valeria gently asked.

“He said…he said that you deserved your…your scar,” Scorpius finished quietly. He glanced at his mother and he could see her heart break in her expression, which deeply pained him. It was if the air had been sucked out of the room as the adults fell into a sudden, shocked silence. Valeria slowly rose and all awaited her reaction, though truthfully it was Draco’s wrath they should have feared. Scorpius saw his father’s expression twist into disgusted anger the likes of which he had never seen.

“I will not continue this discussion with the children present,” Draco said in a cold tone.

“For once, we’re agreed,” Harry said. “Ginny, can you arrange to take Albus and Rose home?”

“Thomas too,” Hermione said.

“Clarence, go find your mum downstairs. No detours,” Boot ordered.

“Scorpius, wait outside, please,” Valeria said. Ginny gathered those entrusted to her care and Clarence shuffled out with his head down. Albus and Scorpius shared one more apologetic look, but Rose wouldn’t even look at Scorpius. He slowly left the room, shutting the door behind him gently, and took a seat in the waiting area holding his head in his hands.

In the Minister’s office, Draco cast a silencing charm over the entrance and turned on Boot, raising his wand at him. Potter responded in kind, aiming at Draco.

“Wand away, Malfoy,” Potter ordered, speaking as an auror.

“We’ll settle this like men, Boot,” Draco said.

“Malfoy!” Hermione said.

“Your boy had to have heard that from somewhere, didn’t he, Boot!?” Draco yelled.

“I’m warning you once more, Malfoy!” Potter said.

“Then you tell him yourself, Potter. You were there when it happened, you saw it, didn’t you? Surely you remember!”

“Now’s not the time to rehash the past,” Potter said.

“Quite the contrary, Potter, I’d say it’s the perfect time. If Boot wants to regale his son with old news, then I’m more than happy to set the record straight!” Draco yelled, refusing to back down.

“Draco!” Valeria said, her sharp voice echoing off the walls. It was at that moment, and only then, that Draco relented. He turned to his wife. “Stop.” On her order, Draco lowered his wand and tucked it away in his robes, albeit with reluctance. Even Ron was a bit struck by the power of her command. 

Boot stood and took a step forward, though he kept a hesitant distance. “Valeria…I’m sorry about what Clarence said. I don’t know what got into him and I’ll surely be having firm words with him—”

“Lying is pathetic, Boot,” Draco spat.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about them,” Valeria said, referring to the children.

“And I will not stand for my son to hear cruel lies about his own mother within Ministry walls,” Draco spat.

“All of them were in the wrong on some level. Scorpius was alone with my daughter after sneaking away from the gala—” Ron interjected.

“Unlike some, Weasley, our son was not born in a barn and has been thoroughly educated in manners and decency—” Draco said.

“Draco…” Valeria hissed.

“You haven’t changed at all. Still the same white-haired, little prick—” Ron started.

“ _All of you_ , stop!” Harry yelled, beating Hermione to the opportunity. “Ron, I think Albus is telling the truth. I highly doubt Rose and Scorpius would be up to no good while waiting around for Albus to show up.”

“Agreed,” Draco said firmly.

“Scorpius still broke her bracelet. Poor Thomas must have spent a small fortune, for a kid anyway, on it,” Ron said again.

Draco rolled his eyes and removed his wand once more. “Honestly, Weasley, I swear working in that damn joke shop has made you forget you’re a wizard.” Draco cast a spell on the bracelet that sat broken on Hermione’s desk. The jewelry magically fit itself back into place, now sitting in perfect condition. But Draco was not finished. He levitated the bracelet and cast some other kind of charm that made the bracelet glow with a hideous brown color. Then he scoffed, taking it in hand.

“What’s so funny, Malfoy?” Ron asked.

“That charm is used to determine fakes from authentic items. I’ve seen it used several times. I’m sorry to tell you, Weasley, and I am no jeweler, but this is practically worthless,” Draco said. He tossed the bracelet to Ron who, startled, didn’t catch it in time. “Reminds me how you let all those quaffles in…” Draco muttered under his breath.

“Enough,” Hermione interrupted loudly before Ron could insult Draco once more. “Here’s how I see it; Clarence and Thomas were wrong to provoke Scorpius. Albus was wrong to get in on the fight. Scorpius was wrong to initiate it coming to blows and none of them should have been there to begin with. We’re all tired, we’ve all got thinking to do on how to discipline them. I say we handle this in our own families in our own ways.”

No one seemed entirely satisfied with that determination. Each parent was out for some kind of action to be taken, though it was clear that this was going to go nowhere. Each unsatisfied, they adjourned the meeting and each of the parents went on their way. Scorpius stood after the agonizingly long waiting time when the Minister’s office door flew open. His parents approached quickly, his father placing a firm hand on his shoulder.

“We’re going home,” Draco said sternly. In no place to argue, Scorpius silently went with his parents down to the floo network, where they swiftly arrived back home in Wales. “To the library, now.”

“Draco, can’t it wait until morning?” Valeria asked.

“I have some things to say that I want him to sleep on,” Draco said. Valeria abdicated to Draco’s judgement and for the moment made her way upstairs. Draco gestured for Scorpius to go to the library, which he promptly did, dreading the conversation that was about to happen. Scorpius sat opposite his father on one of the sofas, and Draco stood with a stony face and his arms crossed.

“Am I grounded? Banned from flying?” Scorpius asked, just wanting to get this embarrassment over with.

“Why would I do that, Scorpius?”

Scorpius looked up. “Because I got into a fight…?”

“You think I’m going to punish you for sticking up for your mother?”

“I mean…I thought so…”

“Between you and me, I admire your restraint.”

Scorpius felt some relief. “I’m sorry. I just…when Clarence said that about mum, I just lost control…”

“You were defending your own. Believe you me had it been me, at your age, I would have done much worse, shameful as that may be. I can’t say I’m too pleased with your timing; Right after your mother gave that speech about uniting the wizarding world. We stood publicly, as a family, for that cause and so this comes off as quite reckless,” Draco said.

“I know. I wasn’t thinking,”

“I don’t like either, but we, our family, we have to tread lightly in these matters. It is no fault of yours and we deeply regret the burden placed on you. That’s why we worked so hard all these years to shield you from it as best we could. We just…because of us, mainly because of what I have done, we have to be a bit more careful. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” Scorpius said before taking a pause. “Is mum okay?”

Draco nodded. “She is. If I know her at all, I think what upsets her most is you feeling the need to fight battles that are yours.”

Scorpius nodded in acceptance. “Am I going to be punished at all?”

“Nothing too severe, if anything. We’ll see what your mother has to say. Though I think I should give you a few stern words about being alone with girls…”

“It’s not what you think. We’re just friends—”

“Man-to-man, Scorpius, what the bloody hell were you thinking? Did it have to be the Granger-Weasley girl?”

Scorpius perked up. “Is it because her mother’s…muggleborn?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “No, it’s because she’s the _Minister’s_ daughter. Not that there is any love lost between us and Granger, but that’s another very complicated story. That means that you must mind propriety extra carefully, lest you want her bumbling father to hunt you down to the ends of the earth, with backing from the Ministry. Understood?”

“Right. That does sound…terrifying.”

“There are other girls with much less annoying parents, I’m sure,” Draco said. “Fiona Zabini seems nice.”

“She’s with Albus.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, it’s been like forever.”

Draco laughed. “Bet that was a nasty shock for Blaise, Albus being Potter’s son and all.”

Scorpius laughed. “I don’t think he knows. Please don’t tell him.”

“The secret is safe with me. Though I can’t guarantee Albus’s safety if he ever finds out. Personally, I think it might be good for young men to have a little bit of fear in these matters.”

“Were you scared of mother’s father?” Scorpius asked.

“No. Hieronymus died before your mother and I were…serious. To be honest, both our parents were supportive. Your uncle Konstantin though…he would have unleashed all manner of hell on me if I would ever have so much as looked in your mother’s direction in a way he didn’t appreciate.”

“Did he know about…about her scar?” Scorpius asked with hesitation. Draco’s expression fell and he curled his lip inward.

“No. He died before…before that happened.”

“Can you…can you tell me what happened?” Scorpius asked. Draco sighed and shifted his weight.

“It is a long story, Scorpius…”

“But what Boot said about her and how she deserved it…Does he know something I don’t? I’m sorry, I know she’s sensitive about it, which is why I’m asking you, but…I just want to know. And the books don’t say—”

“What books?” Draco asked. Scorpius rose slowly from his seat and walked across the room the shelves that held over a hundred encyclopedia volumes. He didn’t have to search for the volume he sought, he knew quite well where it was still even after it had been collecting dust for so long. He walked back to his father and handed him to a book.

“I read this a long time ago. It’s how I found out you were a…a Death Eater…” Scorpius said. Without a word, Draco took the book gently, as if he feared it and flipped through it. He sat on a while, looking at the various pages while Scorpius sat, heart pounding, trying to read his father’s expression. “I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have asked.”

Draco turned more pages and handed the opened book to Scorpius. “You read this part?”

Scorpius read the section title, _Brief Capture of Harry Potter at Malfoy Manor._ “I’m not sure.”

“Tell me what it says,” Draco requested. Scorpius scanned the pages of the entry retelling the tale of Harry Potter’s frightful capture and dramatic escape from Malfoy Manor in spring of 1998.

“… _Fortunately, and with the help of his friends, Harry Potter managed to escape Malfoy Manor and freed several prisoners in the process.”_ Scorpius read aloud. “I don’t understand, father.”

“There’s a reason we don’t go in the drawing room when we visit my parents, Scorpius,” Draco said.

“You and mother were there?” Scorpius asked, referring to the book.

Draco nodded. “We were, though my recollection is far different from that book, but that’s my doing as well, perhaps.”

“What happened?”

“The Winters were always more subtle in everything they did, that includes the crimes that Hieronymus committed. Amongst some of the Death Eaters, their lack of public enthusiasm for the cause was seen as borderline disloyalty. My aunt Bellatrix was among those with these suspicions and so, despite your mother’s and mine best efforts, she suspected your mother of not being perfectly loyal,” Draco began.

“But she wasn’t right? You and mother were never like…like Bellatrix, right?”

Draco inhaled. “It’s a bit more complicated. When Potter was captured, his face had been hexed to make him difficult to identify and so your mother was called to determine whether or not it was him. The Dark Lord could not have been called unless they were absolutely certain. We were minding our business in our chambers. I didn’t realize what was happening at the time and I should never have let her walk out that door. When I did go, I found your mother with her bloodied face in her hands.”

Scorpius listened, quiet as the grave, hearing his father’s words. He had to muster the will to speak. “What…What did mother do?”

“It was what she didn’t do, according to my aunt,” Draco said firmly. “She did not confirm it was indeed Harry Potter. Bellatrix, with some dark magic, cut her face to punish her.” Draco shifted his weight, his shoulders tensed, and his breath stuttered on its way out. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever spoken about it. I think that’s enough stories for now. You have your answer.”

“But what happened—?”

“I’m sorry, Scorpius, I can’t!” Draco blurted out before quickly collecting himself. “You best go to bed, it’s very late. And not a word of what I’ve told you to your mother.”

Scorpius wanted to argue, but Draco was already on his way out of the library, leaving Scorpius saddened and stunned with that old book in his hands.

“Finally!” Albus exclaimed upon finding Scorpius in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. “Sorry I didn’t write, mate. My parents wouldn’t let me write to my friends after the gala since I stole dad’s key and everything. Fiona is probably pissed at me. Saw you in the paper though, that was cool.”

Scorpius laughed. “Embarrassing, you mean.”

“Nah. I’m just glad it wasn’t my family this time. Your mum’s speech beat Harry bloody Potter on the front page, ha! I hope your parents thinks it’s funny, because I definitely do,” Albus said.

“My father was in a rage when he saw it. Ranted the whole morning it came about ‘presumptuous journalists’ and everything,” Scorpius said with a little laugh. Draco had indeed done just that when he saw the family’s photograph accompanying the headline _Malfoy Family Makes Public Statement for the First Time_. “How’s…How’s Rose?”

“Haven’t talked to her much. I think she’s pissed at me for having the idea to go wander around the Ministry, but she was on board with it until she got caught. She’s still with Winslow though. He wrote her some sob story about just wanting to impress which is why he lied about the bracelet and she bought it, I guess,” Albus said.

“The one I broke?”

“Yeah. It was just a cheap fake,” Albus said.

Scorpius scoffed and rolled his eyes, a little less guilty about having accidentally broken it. “She mention me at all?”

“No. Sorry, mate. Did you hear from her?”

“No. I was going to write to her, but I just couldn’t find the words,” Scorpius said.

“Her dad hates you now, I think so you better avoid him,” Albus said with a little laugh.

Scorpius shrugged. “Not as much as my dad dislikes him, I bet.”

“How’d they feel about the whole Rose thing?” Albus asked tentatively.

“Mother said we should have been more discrete, given how it looked and all. Father was mad only because she’s the Minister’s daughter and he doesn’t want to deal with that in any way. I tried to tell them it wasn’t like that, but I don’t think they believed me. All my mother said was to be careful since we come from different worlds,” Scorpius said.

“That’s the best it could have gone, I guess. What’d your mum mean by that?”

“A lot of things, I think,” Scorpius said. He thought for a moment. “I should check on the potion tonight.”

“I’ll go with you. Everyone will be distracted with coming back to school. Should be able to sneak out easily,” Albus said. “You think it’s ready?”

“Probably.”

“What’s the next step then?”

“We take the sample and—”

Scorpius quickly shut his mouth when the compartment door abruptly slid open.

“There you guys are!” Norman Harper said. “Where’ve you been? everyone’s been talking about you.”

“Us?” Scorpius asked.

“Yeah! Well, mainly you, Malfoy,” Harper said.

“Why?” Albus asked. Scorpius was terrified he had inadvertently done something else to embarrass himself that he had yet to realize.

“Why else? How you kicked Winslow and Boot’s asses at that gala! Everyone’s saying how ballsy that was of you. The Slytherins at least; the Ravenclaws don’t look too happy about it,” Harper said.

“Oh, that,” Scorpius replied.

“So is it true? Did you give ‘em a beating?”

“I wouldn’t call it a beating…” Scorpius said.

“He totally broke Boot’s nose. I came in right after it happened,” Albus said.

“Nice! I bet he deserved it,” Harper said.

“He did. Even if he didn’t then, he’s a prick and has always deserved to have a shot taken at him,” Albus said. Scorpius laughed, not really knowing what to say, but Harper joined them eagerly asking the other two boys to tell him the story.

Dinner in the Great Hall that night was no different than the train ride. The Slytherin table was also excited to hear Scorpius’s tale, erupting with laughter. Albus, naturally assisted with the dramatic retelling, miming throwing his fists around.

“Good for you, Malfoy,” Bulstrode, the stocky and imposing Quidditch Captain said. “Maybe Winslow will think twice before messing with you on the pitch.”

Scorpius had to admit that the ego-boost was a bit intoxicating, especially Bulstrode’s compliment, which was indeed high praise. He very much enjoyed the scornful looks from Winslow and Boot over at the Ravenclaw table, as the Slytherins were not exactly subtle about their lively discussion. But when he caught Rose’s expression of angry disappointment, his heart sunk a little. She looked away from him as their eyes met, but Scorpius chose to stifle whatever guilt he felt.

“Uh oh, Boot!” Harper cried out as the Slytherins broke off from the rest of the student body to head down to the dungeons. “Here comes Malfoy and he’s armed this time!” Many of the Ravenclaws shot dirty looks, but the Slytherins bore this in pride.

Scorpius had heard from peers in other houses that there was a commonly held belief that the Slytherin common room was a dark, dingy place. That it was cold and austere, but Scorpius found it quite unfortunate for them that they never got to see it on a night like this. The fire raged with warmth and the students were all buzzing with showing off their Christmas presents, catching up with friends and lively laughter. Perhaps the greatest secret of Slytherin was just how deep these bonds ran.

There was a complication in that Scorpius’s newfound popularity made it far more difficult for him and Albus to sneak off to the Chamber of Secrets. There was no way for them to saunter off, brooms in hand, without being seen. Scorpius’s peers, young and old, wanted to hear every sordid detail of the events at the gala and Scorpius obliged.

“Alright, you lot, off with you. You can get his autograph later, let the man relax!” Albus announced to a group of second years who had crowded around Scorpius. Scorpius sensed they cared less about the fistfight at the Ministry and more about being included with the older students. They scuttled away and Albus dragged Scorpius over to a group of chairs that was closer to the fire, which was usually reserved for the older students. “God, they’re obnoxious.”

“I didn’t mind so much,” Scorpius said with a little smirk as he sat back in his chair, sitting as though it were a plush throne.

“Don’t let it get to your head, mate,” Albus said with a little eyeroll, sitting on the arm of Fiona’s chair. “It gets old quick.”

“Maybe not so quick,” Fiona began. “Octavia Warrington has been eyeing him all evening.”

“Really?” Scorpius asked, perking up to try to slyly scan the room. Sure enough, there was Octavia, a girl in his year who primarily kept to a group of girlfriends and was also friends with Fiona. Scorpius gave her a little smile and nod and Octavia immediately turned back to her friends, who tried to hide their giggling.

“Don’t give him ideas,” Albus half-jokingly scolded Fiona.

“If all it takes to get a girl’s attention is to take a swing at someone…” Harper said.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Norman,” Fiona said.

It was quite some time before the common room settled down as the students slowly headed up to bed in anticipation of classes the next morning. Scorpius struggled to not let drowsiness overcome him as he and Albus patiently waited. Once the common room was empty, Scorpius and Albus quietly collected the things they needed and, map in hand, made their way to the Chamber.

“That ghost has some nerve,” Albus ranted, his voice echoing off the walls as they walked toward the far end of the chamber.

“I thought she was going to scream and get us caught. That was close,” Scorpius said.

“Quick thinking on your part though, promising a belated Christmas present.”

Scorpius set his stuff down. “Now I have to actually bring her one. What the hell do you get a ghost for Christmas?”

“Dead stuff?”

“Helpful as ever, Albus,” Scorpius said, kneeling down to peer into the cauldron. He went for the book that had served as his guide to the process.

“Well? What have we got?” Albus asked impatiently. Scorpius peered back into the cauldron, illuminating the tip of his wand to see into it better. On the bottom of the cauldron was a small circle of dark goop and that is all. He turned back to his book.

“ _One should find a small, self-contained pool of a viscous substance of dark green. It may be dark enough to appear black. This is the basilisk’s venom in its purest, most deadly form and most be handled with the utmost care and caution,_ ” Scorpius read aloud.

Albus examined the cauldron too. “That looks right, doesn’t it?”

“I need a better look at the color,” Scorpius said, setting the book aside. He went for his bag and dug out a small syringe from his potion’s kit. His heart pounded and he had to concentrate his hardest to keep his hands from shaking as he reached the syringe into the cauldron. With agonizingly slowness he carefully filled the syringe with the think, goopy venom. He removed it, carefully avoiding the plunger with his fingers and held the glass barrel of the syringe to his wand’s light.

The substance was oddly beautiful. It seemed to shine on its own, swirling dark green and black liquid that moved though Scorpius’s hand was perfectly still.

“Wicked…” Albus said, too mesmerized. Scorpius had to agree. He suddenly felt something slowly pulse through his veins, an emotion that he could only describe as a realization of just how powerful he was in that moment, holding one of the most deadly substances in the wizarding world in his hands.

“Albus…I think we’ve done it,” Scorpius said with some degree of disbelief. A part of him hadn’t truly expected it to actually work.

“You mean _you’ve_ done it. You’re brilliant, mate,” Albus said. “What’s next?”

“We breakdown the sample,” Scorpius said. Albus carefully grabbed the sample while Scorpius cleaned out the cauldron and prepared the second brew.

“How long is this part going to take?”

“Months, maybe,” Scorpius said with a sigh.

“Seriously?!”

“There are quicker methods, but they’re more dangerous and we’re already very likely to destroy the sample and have to start all over. This is the safest way…” Scorpius lectured, relying on his extensive and repeated reading. “If all goes well, the poison will reveal itself and then we have to figure out how the hell to identify it. You’re just going to have to trust me.”

“Of course, I trust you.”

Scorpius set to work once more. He carefully poured Sakowski’s Stabilizing Solution, which, if Scorpius dosed it correctly, would keep the brew from sputtering, exploding or becoming too corrosive. Next was the sample, which Albus poured in. Finally, the Scorpius slowly pushed the plunger of the syringe, emptying the contents into the brew. Immediately a plume of some noxious fume clouded up from the cauldron and the boys coughed as they turned their heads away. The cloud was made by a sinister, but oddly beautiful, dark green mist.

“Need to babysit it for a bit, then we can actually get some sleep,” Scorpius said. The two boys sat on in silence, Albus laying back on the stone floor, using his robes as a pillow. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything, mate.”

“My father, the night of the gala when we got home, I asked him how my mother got her scar and he told me some of it, but not the whole story, I don’t think. Your dad was there when it happened and I was wondering if he might have ever mentioned it,” Scorpius said.

Albus sat up. “I tried to ask him. He told me it was Bellatrix Lestrange—”

“My great aunt…”

“Right. He didn’t seem to want to talk about it. He got all flustered trying to tell me what happened. He said Bellatrix did some terrible things, but we all already knew that.”

“He said nothing else?”

“Just one thing. He said that your parents were really brave that night, but it cost them a lot. Does that mean anything to you?”

“No. Nothing,” Scorpius said.

“Sorry. I don’t get it either, but I just think it was harder back then for them than they ever really let on…”


	15. The Importance of Impressions

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

_Draco couldn’t sleep again._

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

_He was barely twenty-one years old. It had been years and yet the shadows that plagued him would not relent._

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

_He had awoken in a cold sweat, not unusual. His ears still ringing from the phantom screaming he heard in the back of his mind; the ones he heard in sleep. They echoed inside the confines of skull like a droning sound._

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

_Breath trembling, he got his bearings after he awoke. Valeria was beside him, illuminated by cold moonlight seeping in from the breaks in the thick, tapestry like curtain. She was so still, she slept so deeply and the unfounded anxiety that was routine for him swelled in his heart again. Gently, he brushed her hair out of her face and hovered the back of his hand over her nose and mouth just to feel the slow, gentle puffs of air that escaped as she exhaled. He was relieved. She was alive. He lightly traced the back of his hand across the softness of her face and leaned his upper body over her, careful not to let too much of his weight rest on her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck._

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

_But even feeling her form under him and the warmth of her skin against his cold cheek could not calm him enough to rest. He made for the ancient basements of the Welsh castle, deep under the lake. Though he still had the aggravating instinct to jump at every bump in the night, he felt at ease down there in the dark. The many stone rooms held ancient memories of darkness past, he knew. If only those walls could talk._

_“Expecto Patronum!”_

_In a room that Draco had taken to using as a sort of workshop to practice at his hobbies, he tried, over and over to cast a patronus charm. He knew the spell, of course. He knew what had to be done, but theory and practice were often conflicting bedfellows. He thought, maybe, if he could produce just one pathetic little charm powered by a memory that made him forget all his pain, then perhaps he could hold that memory in his heart long enough to get some sleep._

_“Dammit!” he spat after his last attempt produce only a small sputter of light before quickly dying. The attempt was much like the memories themselves; Fleeting, incomplete, poisoned by pain._

_He tried the simple childhood memories; Flying on a broom for the first time, feeding the peacocks with his mother, his ninth birthday party. Adolescent memories were no better; Winning his first Quidditch game, becoming a prefect, his first kiss, the Yule Ball…_

_Two memories were promising, as they managed to produce light that only lasted a fraction of s second, but they surprised him. They were two memories that plagued him relentlessly. The first was Malfoy Manor when he shoved Valeria to Harry Potter’s outstretched arm and she, with him, disappeared. The pain of losing her, the pain of then believing the choice would cost him his life, was overcome only by how quickly, at the time, he had made peace with the fact he would die. Only the relief, the hope that she would survive, if only just for a little longer, brought him any semblance of serenity. It was not a happy memory, but it was one of the most hopeful._

_The second was the feeling of Valeria’s body crashing into his upon finding him at the Battle of Hogwarts. Of holding her as tightly as he could without crushing her. The smell of her coupled with the stone dust and the singed air around him. It was one of the only times in recent memories he could be sure that he was not alone._

_But there was one final memory, a little one, one that just popped in his head in his frustrating quest to produce the charm correctly. It was more recent. Valeria had some record on, some song was playing and some singer who Draco did not remember the name of sang of realizing how in love he was. Draco had heard the noise from the parlor room and quietly entered and found Valeria dancing around lazily and inelegantly, so unlike her. And she was singing along, paying no mind to key or pitch._

_He folded his arms leaning against the doorframe and smiled at her. She looked down, smiling, when she noticed him, embarrassed at her own silliness. She then stretched out her hand to him and as he took it, Draco thought, for a moment and completely unprompted that maybe they were going to be okay._

_This memory made the charm endure the longest, though not fully formed and only for a couple lingering moments._

_He looked down at his wand, the wand that Potter used to help defeat the Dark Lord and wondered if something was wrong with it, hoping that the fault was in the tool and not in him, but knew otherwise._

_“Draco…”_

_He turned. Valeria stood, her nightrobe gathered close to her. He felt shame._

_“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said. She shrugged._

_“Planning on battling dementors anytime soon?” she asked._

_“No, just wanted to try it. Stupid, I know…” he said._

_“It’s not stupid,” she said. They both knew the truth of Draco’s inability to sleep, but it did not need to be stated. Draco remembered the dementors’ presence at Hogwarts and how they were a small part in sapping the life out of everything. He saw what they had done to his father. He had no doubt they further deranged his aunt. Though he never had to face one, the feelings they brought with them he knew all too well._

_“It doesn’t matter. I can’t do it anyway.”_

_“It’s an incredibly difficult spell,” she argued._

_“Have you ever tried? Didn’t Potter and his friends do them in the DA?”_

_“I fell out with them before they got to that,” she said._

_“Want to give it a go now?”_

_“No.”_

“Where’s your wife?” Lucius asked with disdain in his tone as Draco arrived at Malfoy Manor.

“Business at the Ministry. Could not have been avoided,” Draco said. It was the truth, that’s where Valeria was, but she and Draco purposely arranged for this meeting to occur on a day where she could not have fit into her schedule. Displeased, Lucius sneered as he turned to lead Draco to a parlor room. Draco sat as Lucius thrust _The Daily Prophet_ from a few weeks back to him. There it was on the front page.

“Read it,” Lucius said.

“I know what it says, father,” Draco said, rolling his eyes.

“Aloud,” Lucius ordered.

“‘ _Malfoy Family Makes Public Statement for the First Time. Valeria Malfoy, pictured above with her husband, Draco, and their son, Scorpius, gave a moving speech promoting the unification of wizardkind at the first annual Unification Gala presented by the Ministry Committee for the Improvement of Wizarding Relations last evening. The Malfoy family, meaning Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, has notoriously kept quiet since the end of the Second Wizarding War after avoiding Azkaban prison despite their alignment with You-Know-Who by changing their allegiances in the end. With her husband and son at Mrs. Malfoy’s side, the Malfoys have presented a united front in the effort to improve political relations amongst wizards and witches of different backgrounds. Recounting the losses and suffering she endured, Mrs. Malfoy championed for focusing on today’s youth to empower them to make the right decisions. Wise words, indeed—_ ’ How much do you want me to go on for? This is pointless.”

“How could you let this happen? How could you allow her to make mockery of our name while standing by her side—”

“I stopped controlling what she does a long time ago, father, or don’t you remember? I will stand by her side as I always have, and I’ll have you know that I looked over every word she wrote of that speech at her request,” Draco said. The truth was that Draco didn’t like standing up there and giving a statement, united as a family, either, though for different reasons. An instinct leftover from the past, it was much more comfortable for him to keep him and his family tucked away from prying eyes and ears. None of this, of course, would he ever tell his father.

Lucius paused, clenching his jaw. “I nearly lost you before my own eyes while you ‘stood by her side.’ Sometimes I feel as though I’ve lost you in every other way…to her.”

Draco had heard enough and stood. “I’m not having this conversation again.”

Lucius darted to Draco and stared him down. “You need to understand what people will think when they see this. We have far fewer friends than we once—”

“You think I don’t know? We, my family, are hated by your old friends and suspected by everyone else. I don’t care!”

“Then why would you let this happen?!”

Draco marched to the door, as he had so many times after enduring Lucius’s ravings, but stopped short of the door. “For Scorpius. So that Scorpius can have the chance I never did.”

With that Draco left his father and made for the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor, only to be stopped by his mother on his way out.

“Mother, please…” Draco said in a gentler tone than he used with Lucius.

“Your father might not say it well, but he has your best interests—” she started.

“I’ve heard enough,” Draco said.

“We still have enemies, Draco. We need to stand together,” Narcissa said. Draco didn’t believe it. Although the Malfoys were certainly despised by many of the former Death Eaters still remaining, the war was over, and no one would dare try to make a move after all this time. It seemed to him that Lucius’s insanity had gotten to Narcissa too.

“We live quietly for a reason. I’ll be sure that my family has no part in any of whatever father thinks is—”

“How much have you told Scorpius?”

Draco was taken aback. “He knows what he needs to know. He doesn’t need to know what we went through.”

“He’s your son…It’s his history too. You’ll have to tell him eventually—"

“Good day, mother,” Draco said, unable to bear it anymore. He stepped to side to get past her and left her there, pushing down his dark thoughts once more.

Potions was Scorpius’s favorite subject, and today he was grateful that today’s lesson was purely theoretical, meaning they’d spend the lesson sitting down. Being rather sore from Quidditch practice, he was looking forward to not having to stand the whole time as they did on practical days. Albus was in a bit of a sour mood.

“Classes have barely started back up and I’m already over it. I can’t wait for this year to be done,” Albus complained as they waited outside of Potions.

“You know it’s not going to get any better next year,” Scorpius said.

“I know…Let a man dream, will you? I can’t believe they make us think about our careers in fifth year. I don’t even know what I want for dinner,” Albus moaned.

“Make a career about being Harry Potter’s son. Then you’ll have nothing to worry about,” Scorpius teased.

Albus rolled his eyes as the door opened and they were allowed into the classroom. “James already took that spot, I think. It’s not like you have any room to talk; I don’t think a Malfoy has had a real job for centuries.”

“My mother is an author and Potions Master, thank you very much,” Scorpius said in a joking tone.

“And your dad?”

“He collects stuff.”

“That’s not a job, Scorpius,” Albus said as they sat on the stools at their usual workstation. Before Scorpius could defend his father’s honor, all in good fun of course, Fiona put her hand on Albus’s arm.

“Sit with me today,” Fiona said.

“I’ve been Scorpius’s partner all year,” Albus said, confused.

“I’m sure he’ll be just fine without you,” Fiona said.

“I’m not worried about him; I’m worried about me! Farley will never pass me without his help,” Albus said.

“Am I not a good enough partner?”

“N—no, I just…uh—” Albus stuttered.

“You don’t mind if I sit with my boyfriend for one lesson, do you, Scorpius?” Fiona asked. Even when she was being nice, at least in tone, Fiona was an intimidating girl which Scorpius thought was very good for Albus.

“Don’t get in trouble on my behalf,” Scorpius said.

Albus sighed. “Alright, alright. Hope you don’t get stuck with Harrington…”

Scorpius cringed a little, immediately regretting granting his blessing to Fiona so easily. Harrington was another fourth year in Gryffindor who cared more for games and sports than his academics. What was most egregious about his personality, to Scorpius’s mind, was how much and how energetically the boy talked. Perhaps it was the moodiness of his teenage years, but somehow loud, overly positive personalities aggravated Scorpius to the point of grinding his teeth.

“Hi, Scorpius.”

He looked up. Octavia was smiling at him with her books to her chest. “This seat taken?”

“No, not at all,” he said, relieved. He glanced up to Albus who was moping a little over by Fiona, but Fiona was smirking a little before she looked away quickly. If Scorpius was a little older, and understood girls a little better, he might have suspected the girls had just played him. Octavia sat by him and began setting up her supplies.

“Lucky me. You’re so good at Potions,” she said with a little laugh. Scorpius noted she had dimples in her cheeks when she smiled, and the way she smiled made him blush a little.

“I’m sure you’re not hopeless,” Scorpius said. He immediately panicked. He had meant it to be a compliment and then suddenly realized how it sounded. _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_

Octavia laughed. “You haven’t seen me at work yet.”

Before Scorpius could walk back what he said, Professor Farley began the lesson with her usual sternness. At each workstation was a stand holding a small vial of thick glass containing a deep purple liquid. Farley instructed them to each put on the tight leather gloves that had been provided and carefully uncork their respective vials.

“The fumes will not harm you if you let them waft. Do not stick your nose in the vial, Mr. Harper!” Farley ordered before turning back to the class. “Now, who of you did the optional reading and can identify this poison? Miss Warrington, how about you?”

Scorpius, pretending to take diligent notes, wrote the answer on the parchment before him and nonchalantly tapped by his writing, remaining inconspicuous. Octavia glanced down as she clammed up at Farley’s question, but perked up once she saw what Scorpius had written.

“Weedosoros,” Octavia answered with confidence. Farley was pleasantly surprised.

“Good. And from what is the name of this poison derived?” Farley asked. Scorpius and Rose both shot up their hands.

“A dinosaur!” Sean McLaggen, a Gryffindor who fancied himself a class clown, called unprompted. Rose rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Malfoy?” Farley asked, ignoring Sean.

“The weed of sorrows, also the primary ingredient,” Scorpius said.

Farley smiled with a little bit of pride, but there was something else in her expression Scorpius could not quite pin down. “Yes, I’m sure your mother made sure you were well up to speed on poisons, Mr. Malfoy. Five points each to Warrington and Malfoy.”

“Thanks for that,” Octavia said after the lesson. They were walking to Care of Magical Creatures and somehow ended up walking side by side. “Maybe I could return the favor sometime.”

“You any good at Herbology?” Scorpius asked.

“Pretty decent, actually, but History of Magic is my best subject,” Octavia said with pride. Before Scorpius could answer, Fiona trotted up to them and grabbed Octavia’s arm.

“I’m running to the bathroom before class, come with me?” Fiona asked. Something passed between the girls that Scorpius did not recognize. Octavia nodded and gave Scorpius a little wave before going off with Fiona. Albus caught up to Scorpius.

“What’s gotten into them?” Scorpius asked.

“Dunno, girls are so weird,” Albus said. Scropius caught Albus up on what happened with Octavia during the potions lesson and Albus lit up.

“She likes you, mate,” Albus said.

“Or maybe she just wants a leg up in potions. Wouldn’t be the first time someone took advantage of me like that,” Scorpius said, teasing Albus.

“Tough, but fair,” Albus said. “But Octavia’s never given a boy the time of day. She’s worse than Fiona like that!”

“Do I like her back?” Scorpius asked.

“What kind of question is that? How am I supposed to know!?” Albus paused. “I mean, do you like her?”

“She’s cute and she’s smart. She smelled nice today…And her nose has a nice shape…”

“Really…her nose…?”

“I’m just saying it compliments her bone structure. Is that weird?” Scorpius asked.

“Yes, that is insanely weird. Did you breathe in too many of those poison fumes?”

“Well, what do I then? Ask her out?” Scorpius asked.

“Don’t be thick. You’ve got to do something impressive; something really cool so there’s no risk of her wanting to say no when you do eventually ask her out.”

“I thought knocking out those pricks at the Ministry already impressed her…” Scorpius said.

“Something she can see, Scorpius.”

“Maybe the next Quidditch match I can do some tricks on the broom.”

“You can’t let a girl distract you during Quidditch. Bulstrode will kill you.”

“Flying and potions are the only things I’m really good at, Albus!” Scorpius said, trying to keep his voice down so as not to be overheard by other passing students as they were about to cross the grounds. Scorpius pulled his scarf closer round his neck, winter’s chill still persisting.

“We’ve got to think carefully. What do you have that other guys here don’t…?” Albus mused.

Scorpius gestured defeatedly. “I don’t know! White hair?” Scorpius bit his lower lip, deep in thought. “Wait, my family’s rich. I can buy her something big and—” Scorpius spoke low as his mother taught him to never flaunt his family’s wealth and was quite strict about that rule.

“Not all girls like that sort of thing,” Albus said.

“My father says they do…” Scorpius said.

“You’re going to take romantic advice from a guy who’s been with the same lady since he was like our age? He doesn’t understand the intricacies of courtship in the twenty-first century! No, we’ll think of something…” Albus said. The boys were still at their quiet conversation when they gathered for Care of Magical Creatures.

“Settle down, settle down, ye lot. Got a special treat for yer today. Stay put while I go fetch ‘im,” Hagrid said. The half-giant, who was still teaching at the school, was still just as exuberant for the subject he taught despite his thick unruly hair having gone gray some time ago.

To Scorpius’s shock, a massive four-legged creature with the body of a horse and the head of a giant bird pranced into the clearing, led by Hagrid on a large chain and collar. Scorpius, along with the other students took a half-step back at the sight of the creature’s two, great feathered wings.

“Is that Buckbeak!?” Albus asked excitedly.

Hagrid laughed. “Buckbeak is happily retired. Gotta mind ‘is back these days. Now, this is Flutterfeather. She’s a female Hippogriff an’ one o’ Buckbeak’s nieces!”

“My dad’s going to burst a blood vessel when I tell him they’re still teaching us about those things,” Scorpius whispered to Albus with a snicker as Hagrid was explaining how to properly interact with a Hippogriff.

“Now, who’d like to give it a try?” Hagrid asked the class. Albus lit up like he had the brightest idea ever to occur to humankind.

“Scorpius, this is it. Go volunteer!” Albus whispered harshly.

“What? I’d like to not be mauled to death today,” Scorpius hissed.

“But Octavia’s going to think you’re so cool. Just listen to Hagrid and you’ll be fine.”

“You first!”

“No, it can’t be me! She’ll only be impressed if you go _first_ ,” Albus said. He grabbed Scorpius roughly and tried to shove his friend forward.

“What’re you doing?!” Scorpius whispered as he resisted Albus’s pushes.

“Stop being such a baby!”

The two boys struggled in their tussle for a moment, as much as they tried to hide it, but with one final hard shove forward, Scorpius was pushed to the front, nearly knocking Rose (who had been standing a couple rows in front of him) over in the process. He hadn’t had the time to apologize as he tried to get his footing, nearly tripping over himself from the force of Albus’s shove. A few students giggled behind him.

But he had no time to be too embarrassed either as Hagrid stood before him, eyeing him curiously.

“Malfoy…? Are ye sure?” Hagrid asked. Scorpius looked around. No other student had come forward to volunteer. Scorpius quickly adjusted his demeanor and stood tall and with confidence.

“Uh…yes, sir. I’d like to try,” Scorpius lied. Hagrid looked nervous but nodded and stepped forward.

“You need t’ mind every word I say, understand?” Hagrid said. Scorpius nodded, a bit intimidated by the kindly half-giant. Hagrid turned and Scorpius looked back toward Albus who was waving Scorpius on encouragingly with his hands.

 **“ _I’m going to kill you_ , _”_** Scorpius mouthed to Albus.

“Nice an’ easy, Malfoy. Look ‘er in the eye, take a couple steps forward. Little slower now…Good, stop there. Now, make your bow,” Hagrid instructed.

Scorpius had diligently heeded Hagrid’s words. Scorpius bent forward, bowing so low he thought his nose would smack into the ground if a gust of wind blew a little too hard. He heard the creature squawk and instinctively looked up a little.

“Head down, Malfoy! Keep yer head down!” Hagrid ordered and Scorpius immediately complied. His heart pounded and his father’s story of being assaulted by a hippogriff was suddenly less humorous to his mind. He dared not look up as he heard the beast take a few steps toward him. He glanced forward and after another agonizingly long moment of anticipation, Flutterfeather bent her front knees and bowed her head.

“Well, I’ll be, Malfoy. Well done!” Hagrid said, clapping. The others in class clapped behind and Scorpius smiled with relief. “Now, go on an’ give ‘er a scratch by ‘er beak. She likes tha’.”

Scorpius tentatively stood and look the curious creature in the eye. Slowly, very slowly, he raised his hand and stepped forward while the animal tilted her head back and forth, eyeing him. Her feathers were short and coarse by her beak. He nearly flinched backward when she nuzzled into the gentle scratches he gave. Hagrid applauded harder.

“Look a’ that! She like yeh!” Hagrid said, absolutely delighted. Scorpius looked back to the others, who were less afraid of the creature now. Octavia clapped a little longer than the others, smiling warmly at Scorpius. He glanced at Albus who mouthed **_I told you so_** at Scorpius. “Let’s see if she’d like t’ give yeh a ride.”

Scorpius turned sharply toward Hagrid, his heart now alight with panic. “Beg pardon, sir?”

“She’s taken a likin’ t’ yeh. Just climb on up by ‘er wing joint here—” Hagrid began, seemingly unaware of Scorpius’s shock and reluctance.

“I don’t…I’m not sure that’s necessary—”

“Nonsense, nonsense. Besides, it’ll be a fun story to tell yer dear ol’ dad, eh?” Hagrid said, giving Scorpius a mischievous wink. “I’ll help yeh up.” Before Scorpius could protest further, Hagrid had swiftly hoisted Scorpius a little off the ground. He had not been lifted with such ease since he was a toddler. Hagrid assisted Scorpius onto Flutterfeather’s back. “Now, mind ‘er feathers.”

Hagrid swiftly gave a swift smack to the top of the beast’s rear end and out stretched her great wings. Scorpius would have marveled at the sight, if he were not desperately trying to find a way to hold on. He felt the massive creature lift off from the ground and had no choice but to scoot forward and grab around her neck and resign himself to his fate. She climbed higher above the scattering of trees and Scorpius sat up a little as she flew circles overhead around the class below.

It was cold up there, downright bone chilling, but the rush of excitement and fear warmed Scorpius’s blood. He smiled to himself as a burst of confidence built up in him. Though his hands shook still, fearing the beast’s temperament more than the height, he could not help but feel a little bit on top of the world. The wind in his hair felt incredibly soothing and the castle nearby looked even more glorious from here. He felt pure, almost holy. He felt completely and blissfully free, a feeling he wanted to savor forever.

Flutterfeather dove for the ground abruptly, forcing Scorpius to grab hold again. She landed with a great thud that knocked the wind out of Scorpius’s lungs for a moment. The applause as he dismounted was invigorating. Hagrid put a heavy, but friendly, hand on Scorpius’s shoulder.

“Well done, Malfoy! Somethin’ t’ write home about, I think,” Hagrid said. Scorpius smiled at Hagrid and sensed a mutual respect pass between them. Scorpius returned to Albus to collect his things as Hagrid was leading the group to the rest of the Hippogriffs.

“Octavia couldn’t take her eyes off you. Looks like your Hogwarts’ next most eligible bachelor,” Albus teased.

Scorpius rolled his eyes, though still smiling from the flight; The idea of a fourth year, let alone him, being one of the most sought-after boys in the school was silly. But he decided to tease his friend a little instead. “Not jealous are we, Potter?”

“Ha! Don’t get a big head about it or next time I’ll shove you into the lake.”

After class, on the way to lunch Rose approached them from behind.

“That was pretty amazing, Scorpius,” Rose said shyly.

“Yeah, thanks,” Scorpius said awkwardly.

“Can I talk to you a minute, Albus?”

“I guess. Catch up with you in a bit, Scorpius,” Albus said. Scorpius took his cue to go without more than a nod to Rose as he headed into the Great Hall. “What’s up?”

“I just…I just wanted to ask if Scorpius is okay?”

“He seems fine to me.”

“No, I mean, with me. He’s been distant ever since we got back,” Rose said.

Albus rolled his eyes. “Gee, I wonder why…”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it though?! Have you even apologized like I told you to over break?”

“I don’t know what I have to apologize for,” Rose said defiantly.

“Your boyfriend provoking him and getting him in trouble while you just sat by and did nothing maybe?!”

“Scorpius threw the first punch!”

“Because they insulted his mum! Did your mum even tell you how his mum got that scar?”

Rose looked away. “No. I asked but they didn’t want to talk about it, and I don’t blame them. They apparently almost died that night—”

“Well, my dad told me, at least some of it, and guess what, Rose? Scorpius’s parents almost died that night too! It’s not just all about you!”

“It was a horrible thing to say, but I don’t think they knew what they were saying—”

“You’re being thick. They might not have known what happened, but they knew exactly what they were saying. I know it’s easy for you; Top of the class, teacher’s pet, Aunt Hermione being the Minister, but it’s different for Scorpius,” Albus insisted.

“You think that makes it easier for me? That’s rich coming from Harry Potter’s son!”

“Yeah, his son sorted in Slytherin and has disappointed him more than once. That’s exactly how I know it’s harder for Scorpius,” Albus said before collecting himself. “Just apologize to him and maybe dump that idiot boyfriend of yours.”

“He’s not an idiot!”

“He bought you that fake bracelet and you still like him?!”

“He made a mistake. He just got jealous and wanted to impress me. We worked it out—”

“Well, seems to me you’ve made your priorities loud and clear. When you stop being so stubborn, and when you’re _actually_ sorry, come by the Slytherin table sometime.”

“Albus, wait!”

But Albus was already walking off. He knew Rose was family. He knew his words probably hurt to hear, but he would never be sorry, nor he would he ever backdown, when it came to defending his best friend. Perhaps it was for the best. Scorpius’s mood had lifted in the return to Hogwarts, full of more confidence than Albus had ever seen. Rose, her lot, they would just never understand.

“Your hands are still cold, Scorpius,” Octavia said as Albus approached. She had reached out and gently put her hands on one of Scorpius’s.

“I think I’ll survive,” Scorpius said, trying to hide his blush before noticing Albus take a seat beside him. “What’d Rose want?”

“Dumb family stuff,” Albus lied. “Lily keeps bothering her about teaching her how to fly better, but Rose is just _so busy_ studying so she asked me to do it. No damn way I’m using my free time for Lily to just not listen and argue with me.”

“Scorpius was just telling us all about what it was like to fly on the hippogriff,” Fiona said.

“Show off,” Harper muttered under his breath. “Mine liked me too!”

“After it nearly bit your hand off,” Albus said.

“Are you sure the cold didn’t bother you at all?” Octavia said, practically ignoring the others.

Scorpius laughed. “I don’t really mind the cold at all.”

Meanwhile, Professor Farley was absent from lunch, though no one seemed to take notice, at least amongst the students. She was in the owlery, sending an urgent letter off without anyone seeing. She had penned it earlier, rather quickly, between classes.

_“The boy is quite normal, and while gifted in the subject of potions, I do not believe he has suspected a thing. It is his mother that we must be most cautious of. Her expertise is not to be underestimated. Do not proceed in haste._


	16. Happy Birthday, Albus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very long and probably littered with typos. I'll fix them as soon as I can!

_There were often nights the young Malfoys couldn’t sleep. Those first few years after the war hard at night and so they took to staying up together, remaining awake to the point of absolute exhaustion before crashing. Much like their late adolescence, this was the only way they could find some rest. They would go back to the war each night._

_They stargazed. Sitting on their bed in the darkness, Draco’s arms around Valeria while she leaned back into him, they’d stare out the windows of the room high up in their tower. They watched the universe go by them through the seasons as the stars above changed through the year._

_They were often intimate as well. It was often just what Draco needed. There was hardly anything else that made him feel so deeply loved, so passionately desired and he would be sure to return the sentiment out of visceral adoration._

_Valeria had developed a fear of loud, sudden noises over the years. She recalled the Draco, when she could finally muster the strength, how the breaking of a glass brought her back to hearing the windows at Hogwarts shatter. The thud of a dropped book reminded her of the sound of Jane Master’s corpse collapsing on the table. One night, there was a blizzard and she heard not wind that shook the windows, but the trembling of stone at Hogwarts. She heard not a sudden gust creating a low rumble, but the Dark Lord’s booming voice echoing in her skull. Draco had offered to cast a silencing charm over the bed, so she’d be unable to hear the storm, but she admitted that she needed to hear Draco’s breath as she fell asleep. She initiated intimacy instead and Draco held her close, whispering as if to pray, “You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe.”_

_But afterwards she was still unable to fall asleep and so he sat up with her, holding her close to him, gently rubbing her shoulder as he held his arm around her. To keep her from flinching at the sudden sounds, he kept her talking. He reminisced over childhood memories_

_“And Nott and I put Flask of Flatulence in Crabbe’s pumpkin juice the next morning.” Draco said._

_“Was that when we covered effects of phoenix ashes in potions? Snape paired me up with Crabbe that day and it was the worst class of my life.”_

_“Must have been. Snape was so pissed. ‘You disgrace house Slytherin….Mr. Crabbe” Draco said, mimicking Snape’s voice._

_“When did he finally stop farting?”_

_“Just before bed. Told him to clean up his smelly laundry or we’d do it again the next day. Don’t look at me like that. You would have done the same thing if you had to live with the guy.”_

_“They’re both gone. Crabbe and snape. It’s strange to remember,” she said after a moment._

_“It is.” Draco inhaled. “I don’t think Crabbe’s mum will ever forgive me.”_

_She squeezed his arm. “It wasn’t your fault. She’ll see that, in time.”_

_He was quiet for a long moment. “Is that how you see it? Even after everything that…I did?”_

_“Draco...”_

_“I would give up anything, everything, in an instant just to undo it all, for your sake.”_

_“I know. So, would I for yours.”_

_“It’s different. You didn’t do as—”_

_She turned and looked at him, her face mere in hides from his. “I forgive you. I already have. I forgive you.”_

_Draco looked away from her, but she cupped his cheek in her hand. “I forgive you.”_

_Over and over, she said it. Soft and like a prayer that was somehow a battle cry in his mind. He adored her mercy though he knew he didn’t deserve it. That’s exactly why he needed it. “I forgive you.”_

_It got easier over the years. Draco read parenting books when he couldn’t sleep sometimes. It was his little secret at first, before Scorpius was born. He didn’t want to admit he needed the help, and he didn’t want his wife to think of him as a clueless father before their child was even born. Though this anxiety was unfounded, he still sought answers. He figured he could use all the advice he could get._

_Most of the books proved silly. Much of what was written was common sense and most of the books contradicted one another so much as to render them useless, which left Draco even more confused about how to navigate fatherhood. There was one book that Draco kept around, **Entertaining Incantations** , a small anthology of silly or amusing spells curated for entertaining children. He was making good use of it one day when Scorpius was around five._

_“You’re a fool if you think you can defeat, the greatest sorcerer the British Isles have ever seen!” Draco shouted with feigned malice as he darted around the other side of the massive table in their home’s dining room. Scorpius, wearing a hat much too big for him and brandishing a long spoon for a wand, ran out to face his father from around the corner._

_“You’ll never win! Bam! Bam!” Scorpius cried out, waving his spoon around. Draco moved as if to block Scorpius’s imaginary attacks._

_“I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. A curse so terrible that it will defeat you once and for all!” Draco declared. He waved his wand and silently cast a real spell. A series of ribbon-like streamers flew forth from the tip of Draco’s wand, twirling in the air and landing unspectacularly to the floor. Scorpius nearly doubled over in laughter and Draco feigned shock and fear. “What is this? Have I been tricked? Oh, I’ll be sure to have my vengeance—” Scorpius motioned dramatically with his spoon and cast an imaginary curse at his father. Draco stumbled backward, clutching his chest. “No, I’ve been hit!”_

_“I got you!” Scorpius proudly shouted. Draco swayed and threw himself to the ground dramatically with a loud thud, purposely knocking over a dining room chair in the process._

_“Defeated! Humiliated! I’ve been bested by the great Scorpius Malfoy—”_

_“The greatest wizard alive!” Scorpius shouted as he ran to his father and jumped on him, attempting to tackle him. That did knock the wind out of Draco’s lungs for a moment; Scorpius was getting a little too big to fling himself at Draco like that._

_But one of the dining room doors swung swiftly opened and the hard clacking of shoes stopped short. Scorpius looked up, seeing his mother wearing an expression he didn’t recognize, and her wand drawn in an iron grip. Valeria saw Draco lying on the floor, feigning defeat, but for the flash of a moment, she was sixteen again. She was standing in the flooded bathroom and Draco was sprawled out, twitching and gasping for breath, covered in his own blood. She was cradling his head while he clutched at her collar, knelt on the wet stone, blood and water soiling her uniform. She was looking into wild, pleading eyes that looked to her as if they knew they did not have long left to see._

_She hated being sixteen again. She was sixteen again far too much for her liking._

_“What’s happened?” she asked in a breathy voice._

_“I won!” Scorpius proclaimed with a toothy grin. Draco sat up and started getting to his feet, dreading being scolded for roughhousing with Scorpius in the dining room again. Valeria marched quickly over to Scorpius and looked him over._

_“Are you alright?” she asked. “I heard—”_

_Draco knew the look on her face that Scorpius was too young and too innocent to read. Her chest was moving rapidly up and down. Her eyes were wide and wild, frenzied even. Draco could even see her hands tremble every few seconds._

_“No, we were just pretending,” Scorpius said with a laugh. “See mummy, father’s fine. Look! I didn’t really hurt him. I don’t even know how!”_

_“Darling, it was only a game,” Draco said softly. Valeria looked around, noticing the ribbons on the floor and the large spoon in Scorpius’s hand. She quickly hid her wand away. Scorpius’s smile fell._

_“Are you alright, mummy?” Scorpius asked, touching his mother’s shoulder. Valeria forced herself to smile and let out a little laugh that sounded more like she was wincing through pain._

_“Of course, I am. No need to worry,” she said. Scorpius leaned forward and wrapped his small arms around his mother._

_“Scorpius,” Draco said after a moment, keeping his gaze on his wife. “Why don’t you go tell Tilly you have our permission to taste test dessert.”_

_Scorpius’s priorities changed and he gave his mother one more squeeze, before excitedly rushing out of the room toward the kitchen. Valeria put her arm on the back of a nearby chair and flinched slightly as the door latched a little louder than normal as Scorpius shut it behind him. Draco went to her and without a word embraced her._

_“Come here, love,” he whispered. She melted in his embrace and buried her face in his shoulder._

_“I’m sorry,” she said weakly as she shuddered at the onslaught of emotions. Draco shushed her while running his hand through her hair._

_“You have nothing to be sorry for. Ever,” he said firmly, but reassuringly._

_“I don’t want him to see me like that. He doesn’t need to…I don’t want him to know…” she was rambling, hardly knowing what she was trying say as she gasped through her words, on the precipice of panic._

_“He’s fine. I promise he’s fine. He loves you. He loves you so much,” Draco said._

_“Do you think he thought I was upset with him?” she asked, grabbing Draco’s forearms tight. He shook his head. “He’s sensitive and I—”_

_Draco pulled away but kept his body against hers. He cupped her face in his hands, using his thumbs to gently wipe away stray tears. “But he’s bright. And he’s strong, full of life. Just like you. He is just fine.”_

_“He’s innocent…I’m not—”_

_“Now you listen to me right now,” Draco said. He never ordered Valeria around, not anymore, and he doubted he could if ever dared to try. But these moments were the exception. “You are perfect. You are the perfect mother for him. He loves you…so much. And I adore you.” Draco was rambling now too, pressing his forehead to hers. But he meant it. Perfect did not have to mean flawless, for neither of those two half-broken people were. But she was perfect, each broken piece of her was perfectly imperfect. His burdens turned to vapor at her touch, and he could not help but have a heart so full that it was close to explosion knowing how much she loved their son._

_“I don’t want him to worry about me…I don’t want him to be afraid…Ever…It’s my fau—”_

_He pulled back again, looking her directly in the eye. “It’s not your fault. None of it. None of this is your fault.”_

_She wept harder at the sound of his words and he took her to his chest again and swayed her gently. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated over and over. “Trust me, just this once, and don’t argue with me, Winters.” He kept speaking softly, prepared to stand there as long as it would take for his message to sink in: “It’s not your fault.” He kissed her head. “Can you say it?”_

_“What?”_

_“Say it’s not your fault. Just try for me. Please.”_

Though loud noises didn’t scare him, they did startle him sometimes, having grown up in such a quiet home. Unlike his parents, he didn’t think much of it. So when he heard his name shouted in the corridor as he left the library, he jumped a little. He turned to see Fiona and Octavia walking briskly toward him, Fiona dragging Harper in tow.

“Ladies,” Scorpius greeted with a cheesy tone and a little laugh. “And Harper. What’s up?”

“Albus left all of this weekend’s homework until today so now’s our only chance,” Fiona said.

“Chance to what?”

“To plan his birthday party, of course,” Octavia said as if it were the most obvious fact of the universe.

“Do you seriously not know your best friend’s birthday? What’s wrong with you?” Fiona said.

“I guess we never really talk about that sort of thing—” Scorpius began, interrupted by Fiona releasing Harper and grabbing Scorpius by the back collar of his robes.

“Boys are so damn stupid,” Fiona muttered as Scorpius surrendered to being dragged down the corridor. Harper did not look sympathetic, but merely shrugged at Scorpius, thankful to not be the one being pulled along by the girls. It was not a long walk, fortunately, and Fiona shoved Scorpius into a nearby empty classroom.

“Shouldn’t we do this in the common room?” Scorpius asked.

“Where do you think Albus is doing his homework, you dolt?” Fiona said. She gestured to Octavia, who pulled out a notebook, writing supplies and a makeshift map of Hogsmeade from her bag. Fiona laid it all out as if she were a general planning a siege.

“Here’s the plan. Albus’s birthday is the same weekend as the next Hogsmeade trip. Your job is to distract him until we’ve got everything set up at the Three Broomsticks. Here’s the itinerary,” Fiona said, directing Scorpius’s attention to the notebook in which she had scheduled the entire day down to the minute. Scorpius was impressed.

“Isn’t that the Valentine’s Day trip? Why wouldn’t he just ask you on a date that day?”

“I’m going to tell him that Octavia and I are having a girl’s day,” Fiona said.

“Yeah, like a ‘strong women not abiding by manipulative patriarchal traditions under the guise of romance’ sort of thing,” Octavia said proudly.

“Albus won’t argue with that, trust me,” Fiona said.

“God help him if he tries…” Harper muttered.

“So what, I just wander around with him until it’s time to go to the Three Broomsticks?”

“Basically. Fiona and I are going to disguise his presents as shopping bags from Hogsmeade, so it looks like we’ve just been shopping if we cross paths on accident. There’s also the reservation…”

“Pardon?”

“Look Scorpius. Apparently last year James Potter had a birthday party with the Gryffindor Quidditch team at the Three Broomsticks and they somehow managed to release a small herd of rabbits—”

“That’s right, Albus told me something about that. I wonder how they managed that…” Scorpius said.

“Who knows. You know they’re all insane,” Fiona said.

“Right menaces to society, they are,” Harper agreed.

“The point is, Scorpius, that old Madam Rosmerta charges fees now for students to reserve sections of the place. We’ll all pitch in of course, but…” Octavia said, trying to be gentle and polite.

“How much is this gonna cost me?” Scorpius said with a sigh.

“Oh, don’t even start. Your parents could buy the entire village and not notice the loss,” Fiona said.

“So could yours! You do realize they don’t just send me to school with the entire family vault, right? I get an allowance,” Scorpius said.

“You just wrote your mum for money for new cashmere lined gloves last week! Albus told me,” Fiona said.

“That’s different. Mother agreed my old ones were out of style,” Scorpius said.

“ _Mummy says…_ ” Harper mocked, rolling his eyes.

“Your mum went all out for my mum’s birthday last year. She’ll agree to it if it’s for your best bloody friend, Scorpius. It’s not like I can ask my parents,” Fiona said.

“You still haven’t told them about Albus?” Scorpius asked.

“No, and I’d like to avoid it as long as I can. You know how my dad is,” Fiona said. She was indeed correct that Blaise Zabini was an intimidating man, far more so than Scorpius’s father. “And I can’t lie to my mum. She always knows. I swear she can read minds.”

“Well, my dad won’t let me have free access to my account until I sit down with him and learn all about the ‘family finances’ with him. I’d have to make a good case…” Scorpius said.

“Which is why you write to your mum. If she agrees then your dad will have to too,” Fiona said.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your dad say no to your mum, Scorpius,” Harper said.

“Maybe not, but he’ll definitely complain,” Scorpius said with a small laugh.

“It’s for Albus. We wouldn’t ask otherwise,” Octavia said gently. Scorpius looked at her soft smile and the way she held her high even as the kids argued. He found it a bit difficult to say no to her.

“I’ll write my mum. Now is there anything else? Any other unexpected expenses—” Scorpius was interrupted by the classroom door creaking open and all four of them turned to the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Rose said meekly as she looked them over. “I was just looking for a quiet place to study. Library’s a bit crowded and the common room is always loud this time of day.”

“Rose! Good, glad you’re here. We were just plan—” Scorpius began, with the mind to invite her to the party.

“Slytherin secrets, Scorpius, remember? Sorry, Weasley. It’s not personal,” Fiona said.

Scorpius was confused but knew well enough to keep his mouth shut. It was a poor excuse and he doubted Rose was convinced, but she didn’t question it.

“Right, sorry. See you around then,” Rose said tersely before making her exit. After a moment, Octavia packed up her things.

“Come on, Harper. Let’s get your portion of the reservation fee and I’ll keep hold of it,” Octavia said. Harper mumbled some sort of complaint and Octavia smiled warmly to Scorpius on the way out.

“What was that about?” Scorpius asked, turning to Fiona.

“Listen, you didn’t hear it from me alright, I’m not supposed to say.”

“Out with it then.”

She folded her arms and sighed. “Albus and Rose have had a bit of a falling out. I don’t think we should invite her to the party.”

“A falling out? About what? He never said—”

“About what happened at the Unification Gala.”

“Why would they be mad at each other about that? I was the one who—”

“Exactly. It wasn’t so much about what happened, but about how she reacted. They had an argument about it and Albus stood up for you.”

Scorpius was surprised to hear it but was suddenly overcome with guilt once more. He looked down at the floor, a bit if his white hair falling in his face for him to clearly see. He saw the Malfoy ring on his finger too. “So it’s me. They’re fighting over me.”

“Yes and no, I think,” Fiona said with a shrug. “It’s complicated.”

“I know it’s complicated, Fiona!” Scorpius said, louder than was polite. He muttered an apology. “It feels like my very existence makes everything complicated.”

“We get it, Scorpius. People like her, well, not so much,” Fiona said with a bit of defeat in her voice. It was true there were rumors about many of his Slytherin peers, though, for reasons he did not know, the Malfoys seemed to have more skeletons in the closet than most.

“No matter the case, I don’t want Albus fighting with his family for my sake,” Scorpius said.

“It’s not just Rose. It’s all of them. He just…he doesn’t fit in with them and it’s been harder on him than usual this year. I just…I think it’s best if we keep it separate. If he wants to celebrate with them too at some point, he can.”

“I can talk to him. Or I can talk to Rose. I can fix it,” Scorpius said. Fiona grabbed his arm.

“No. I wasn’t supposed to say anything, and he didn’t want you to know because he didn’t want you to feel like this,” she said.

“It’s okay. It’s been like this my whole life. I don’t want to drag him down too.”

“You’re not dragging him down, for God’s sake. Don’t be dramatic,” she said, rolling her eyes. “He’s your bloody friend, Scorpius. Let him be that.”

“He doesn’t need to protect me.”

“No, he doesn’t. But maybe he wants to.”

In Wales, Valeria sauntered into the room the next morning with the mail. Draco knew well the expression on her face as he looked up from the paper. Every time Scorpius wrote home, she smiled like it was Christmas morning.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked.

“Nope, just got to the birth announcements at the end. Shocked the Weasleys haven’t popped out any more lately…” Draco said, trying to make a joke.

“Remember Scorpius’s birth announcement? I miss him being that small…”

“Don’t get any ideas, Val. We agreed one and done,” Draco said quickly. She playfully smacked him before opening Scorpius’s letter. “I’m shocked he wrote already. He can barely remember to write weekly.”

“Ah, looks like he wants some extra for his allowance,” she said. Draco snatched the letter from her.

“I just gave him extra for those damn gloves he didn’t need…I fear we’re spoiling him,” Draco said, reading the letter.

“Don’t you dare act like you didn’t write home every other day asking for money, Draco Malfoy.”

“Exactly. I would know, wouldn’t I? As you so often like to remind me.”

“If you would kindly pull that stick out of your arse and actually read what he said, you’ll find he would like to do a nice thing for his friend,” Valeria said.

“A birthday party for Albus?”

“Scorpius is so thoughtful, isn’t he?” Valeria said, smiling with pride. 

“Are you sure about this? Those Slytherin parties, at least in our day, could get a little out of hand…”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t love those parties.”

Draco thought for a moment. “Remember Montague when we destroyed Ravenclaw one year? Snape made him clean up the entire common room without magic.”

“Hopefully Scorpius will have a better head on his shoulders than Montague. Be sure to send him a little extra so that he can get Albus a present. Something nice.”

“Yes, yes, darling, I will. I’ll even send more than that with a reminder that your own birthday is around the same time,” Draco drawled with a sigh.

"I don't need anything from him. As long as he has fun with his friends, that's good enough for me," she said.

"I'll remind him regardless. And this summer I’m sitting him down and we’re having a talk about managing finances. If he wants to have money to spend, he’ll have to learn how to actually hold onto some of it.”

“Professor Malfoy’s enthralling lectures on wealth management can wait. Let him have fun without being a snob about it.”

“I’m the snob? You’re the one who just last week ranted about how you ‘will not stand to have our son walking around in outdated fashions.’ Remember those damn bonnets you insisted he needed as a baby? Talk about outdated…He look like a ghost child from another century.” Draco couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

“They were not bonnets. They were little caps, and they were quite tasteful, _and_ he looked absolutely precious.”

“If he isn’t the best dressed student at that school, I want our money back.”

“Shall I parade around in a burlap sack for you then? Since it’s so much trouble,” she asked sarcastically.

“Now that I would pay a fortune to see. I think you’d look rather alluring in a sack,” Draco said. She gave him another playful smack, and Draco laughed. He certainly enjoyed giving her a bit of a hard time sometimes, when he could get away with it.

Thanks to their escapades in the Chamber of Secrets, Scorpius had become quite could at keeping secrets. Though it was harder to lie to Albus than anyone else. It was also hard to find Fiona alone, but he managed to catch up with her after Herbology, since Professor Longbottom wanted to have a talk with Albus about “sarcastic comments” about Teething Tulips.

“Did you get the Quidditch team to come?” Fiona asked. That had been one of Scorpius’s tasks for the party.

“I can’t exactly make an announcement at practice, can I? Albus is on the team too. But I have an idea,” Scorpius said. He opened his bag slyly, not knowing how much time he had before Albus caught up to them. He showed her a stack of envelopes, each addressed to a member of the Quidditch team.

“What if Albus finds one of those lying around in the boys’ dormitory?” Fiona asked.

“It won’t matter. Remember how you need an invitation to find my house? A little tricked I learned from mum. They’re enchanted so only the recipient can read them. They’ll look blank to Albus and I doubt he’d care enough to ask anyone about them.”

“That’s actually a bit brilliant. But did you make sure to write that this was a surprise party on those invitations?” she asked.

“I’m not stupid, Fiona. I’ll need you to distract him tonight so I can hand them out.”

“I think I can manage that.”

“Great. Then I’ll distribute them and—”

“Distribute what?”

Scorpius and Fiona turned to see Albus stopping behind them.

“Notes…for Herbology class….to Octavia…” Scorpius said, lying poorly.

“But you’re terrible at Herbology and she isn’t. Why does she want your notes?”

“She’s going to correct them for him. Right, Scorpius? That’s how bad his notes are. Trust me, I’ve seen them,” Fiona said.

“Yeah, total rubbish,” Scorpius said, nodding more than was necessary. Albus rolled his eyes.

“Maybe if you weren’t making googly-eyes at Octavia the whole time, then maybe you’d have better notes,” Albus teased.

“What are ‘googly-eyes’?” Scorpius asked, not understanding the jibe.

“Never mind, must be a muggle thing,” Albus said.

Scorpius had secured the attendance of the Quidditch team to Albus’s party and helped the girls with planning when he could, but his main job was to distract Albus in the time leading up to the event. When the day arrived in mid-February, Albus and Scorpius were walking around the village in the late-winter slush. They had visited Albus’s favorite shops, which were full of Hogwarts couples on dates. Now they were wandering around, eating candy and enjoying the crisp fresh air.

“Fiona has got to be the weirdest girl I ever met,” Albus said. “I mean, what girl doesn’t want to go on a date for Valentine’s Day?”

Scorpius laughed. This was the only suspicion Albus had of anything amiss. “I know I’m not her, but I hope I’m a close second Valentine’s date.”

Albus laughed. “Did you try asking Octavia out?”

“Didn’t bother once I learned she and Fiona were having a girls’ day,” he said. It was only a partial lie. Albus gave him a light smack on the shoulder.

“Come on, mate. She’s mad for you. I bet she’s sitting around with Fiona right now just beside herself that you didn’t ask her out,” Albus said. Scorpius knew that wasn’t true, at least today, but he had to play along.

“I doubt that. I don’t really think she’s ‘mad’ for me,” he said bashfully.

“Why wouldn’t she be? You’re on the Quidditch team, you’re smart, you’re rich, your hair’s always tidy. You’re practically every girl’s dream man.”

“Now that’s a gross exaggeration. I guess I just don’t understand girls. I mean, I tried, at least a little, with Rose and that turned to disaster…”

“That’s because Rose can be a stubborn idiot despite how smart she is.”

Scorpius stopped walking. The guilt of Rose’s and Albus’s relationship suffering because of him had been eating away at him and made him feel more shameful than he cared to admit.

“Listen, I know you and Rose had an argument about…about me and—”

Albus stopped and looked annoyed for a moment. “Did Fiona tell you?”

“Don’t be mad at her, I’m the one that bothered her to tell me. I just hate to think that you’re arguing with Rose for my sake.”

“What are you going on about?”

Scorpius sighed, frustrated and shoved his hands in his pockets. This was all very hard to say. He wasn’t exactly sure what he felt, let alone how to articulate it. “Look, I know who I am and I’m used to it by now. Loads of us, Harper even Fiona too, those of us…born on the wrong side of history, know what it’s like. I know what people think of me. I see the way they look at me once they learn my name’s Malfoy, as if the hair doesn’t give it away.”

“You don’t have to be okay with being treated differently for some war that happened decades ago; Before you were even born,” Albus said.

“Y’know, sometimes I think there just hasn’t been enough time. I don’t the world is as over it as it pretends to be,” Scorpius said, rambling a bit. “Sorry, all I’m saying is that I don’t want anyone to sacrifice anything to try and protect me. I don’t want to get in the way of you and your family. I can’t help who I was born as, but I can at least help that.”

Albus was quiet for a moment before speaking. “How could you ever think you’re in the way of anything?” Scorpius started to stutter out a rebuttal but was interrupted by Albus. “I argued with Rose because she’s _wrong_ and I would have stood up for you no matter what your stupid last name is because she’s _wrong_. I didn’t want you to know about it because I knew you’d feel bad about it even though you don’t need to. You’re always so concerned about not making waves, not stepping out of line or on any toes that I knew you wouldn’t stick up for yourself.”

“I have to be careful about my reputation—”

“I know you feel that way, and maybe you’re right. But it doesn’t matter because if you’re not going to stick up for yourself, then I will. And in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t exactly fit in with Rose and the others either. Being sorted into Slytherin is the least of our differences. You once told me Slytherin is about fraternity too. Friendship, right?”

“Right, but—”

“And Slytherins look out for their own. I guess the sorting hat was right because that is just fine by me. I rather be a good friend than someone who lets people be mean to my friends for the sake of family. Now stop bloody arguing with me about it because I’m not changing my mind.”

Scorpius was quiet and Albus almost felt bad for a moment, speaking in a harsh tone and laying down the law about where he stood on this matter. It was hard for Albus to express properly, being as young as he was, but it all came from the same empathetic place. Seeing Scorpius, pale as the snow beneath their feet, looking down with a defeated expression reinforced Albus’s convictions. After all, he too knew well what it was like to bear burdens of a past, of a name, that he could not control.

“I suppose I should thank you then,” Scorpius said. He was struck with how wise Albus could be when he wanted to be, even if it he didn’t intend to be. Albus put a friendly hand on Scorpius’s shoulder.

“Just forget about it, mate. Alright?” Albus said. Scorpius laughed a little and nodded. It came to Scorpius’s mind to check the time and he realized they were dangerously close to falling behind schedule, risking Fiona’s ire.

“How about a drink at the Three Broomsticks? My treat,” Scorpius said.

“Sure. I’m freezing out here anyways.”

They walked back to the main drag of the village, the conversation turning back to more innocuous, and more fun, topics. Scorpius liked that about hanging out with Albus. The dark, heavy things in life didn’t linger long in his company.

“Might want to turn ‘round,” a Hufflepuff that Scorpius didn’t know well said as they approached the pub. “Someone’s gone and reserved half the place, so we were turned away at the door.”

“Thanks for the update,” Scorpius said, continuing to go to the door.

“Doesn’t sound like we’ll be able to get in,” Albus said, but Scorpius was opening the door and gesturing for Albus to follow them. They were promptly stopped by one of the bartenders holding a piece of parchment.

“Names?”

“Malfoy and Potter,” Scorpius answered. The bartender nodded and let them pass. Albus closely trailed behind Scorpius.

“Your parents buy the pub or something?” Albus asked. Scorpius just shrugged and kept heading towards the back of the pub. There was a large white curtain hanging blocking off a section of the pub. Albus stopped and raised an eyebrow at Scorpius.

“Maybe there’s a place to sit back there!” Scorpius called out, louder than he needed, startling Albus. But before Albus could react, the curtain flew open and behind it was all of the invitees to the party, with Fiona standing in front with her wand out.

“Happy Birthday!” the group shouted, not quite in unison, but they managed well enough. The shouting got the attention of others in the pub, but all eyes were on Albus. Like the good sport he was, he burst out laughing.

“This is why you’ve been acting so odd?!” he said, approaching Fiona and giving her a hug. “I thought you were about to dump me.”

Octavia rushed forward with a camera. “We’re doing the pictures first before we make a mess. Everyone get closer!”

“Scorpius get in here, mate,” Albus said, grabbing Scorpius by the collar and pulling him to stand beside him. Scorpius smiled big and broad, completely genuine. Several butterbeers and snacks later, even the older students on the Quidditch team were having fun.

“Who thinks the guest of honor should give us a speech?” Bulstrode, who was in a surprisingly relaxed mood, called out with his booming voice.

“No way!”

“Speech!” Scorpius demanded, half-joking. Unfortunately for Albus, their peers chimed in chanting _Speech! Speech! Speech!_

Fiona shoved Albus, butterbeer spilling a little onto the floor, to the front of the of the tables and booths they had reserved in this section of the pub.

“Alright, alright, will you all just shut it!?” Albus said, rolling his eyes, but could not help but laugh. “I, uh, guess I should start with thanking you all for coming. Y’know, I didn’t really know what to think when I was put in Slytherin, but now I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. You all have made this my home away from home. Fiona and Octavia, thanks for setting all this up; you’re both brilliant liars. Harper, you’re still a bit of a git, but you’re still a good mate. Bulstrode for leading the best Slytherin team Hogwarts has ever seen and letting me be a part of it—” Albus was interrupted by the Quidditch breaking out in a cheer. “And last but not least, Scorpius, who’d I’d happily ride to hell and back with. Cheers!”

“Cheers!” The crowd responded, drinking from their cups of Butterbeer. As the afternoon turned to evening, it was time to head back to the castle. Fortunately, the mess wasn’t too big and carrying everything back to the castle was easy with Fiona, Octavia, Harper, Albus and Scorpius all helping. They talked and laughed on the way back to the common, the girls especially were quite proud over having managed to pull the wool over Albus’s eyes, but Scorpius knew he was incredibly unobservant sometimes.

What remained of the cake had been thoroughly devoured in the common room. Scorpius was lounging with his friends, his legs outstretched, practically melting into his armchair. Fiona and Albus were having a hushed, and rather cozy, conversation off near the wall. Octavia sat on the on the arm of the chair by Scorpius, surprising him a little.

“Thanks for putting all this together. You and Fiona did brilliant,” Scorpius said.

“We couldn’t have pulled it off without you, could we? Albus is lucky to have you for a friend. I hope we didn’t ruin any exciting Valentine’s plans,” she said. Movement caught Scorpius’s attention. Albus was waving his arms over by the wall, fortunately Octavia hadn’t noticed.

 ** _Ask her_** , Albus mouthed to Scorpius.

“Actually, uh,” Scorpius began, his face beginning to warm with a blush. “I was…I was going to ask you to Hogsmeade. Before I knew about the party, that is.”

“Really?” Octavia asked.

“Yeah. Maybe…Maybe I could get a raincheck sometime?”

She smiled. “I think I’d like that.”

“Scorpius!”

Scorpius was late for dinner the next day. He got caught up in the library searching for information that could aid his quest lying deep below in the Chamber of Secrets. He turned to see Rose walking toward him near the entrance of the Great Hall.

“What can I do for you, Rose?”

“I didn’t want to ask Albus, and I know it’s weird to ask, but it’s been bothering me. Why wasn’t I invited to Albus’s party?” she asked, a bit shyly.

Scorpius didn’t realize she knew about it but supposed that word gets around quickly at Hogwarts. He was taken aback by the question and didn’t know what to say.

“It was mainly just a Slytherin thing,” he said.

“But you were about to invite me. That day in the classroom, you were planning it then, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but we decided to keep it in-house. If you want to celebrate with Albus, just go ask him or plan something else,” Scorpius said.

“That’s difficult seeing as how he’ll barely talk to me.”

“That’s none of my business. That’s between you and Albus.”

“But it is your business—”

“Why? Because you two are arguing about me?” Scorpius crossed his arms.

“I was going to say because I thought we were all friends,” she said sternly.

“Funny, so did I.” Scorpius said with a slight sneer. He did not, nor could not, realize how much he resembled his father in that moment.

“Is that really necessary?” she asked. She sighed out of frustration. “Albus and I used to be so close and it just worries me to see him pushing us, his family, away, like this.”

“He’s not even in the same house as you lot, you can’t expect him not to have friends that aren’t you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” she said.

“You aren’t the only important people in his life, Rose.”

Rose was angry now. “It’s different! I’m his _family_ , you’re just his friend!”

Scorpius was silent for a moment. That cut him somewhere deep. “Really, Weasley?”

“Dammit,” she said, realizing what fell out of her mouth. “Scorpius, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it like—”

Scorpius remembered Albus’s words about sticking up for himself and shifted his weight to stand more defiantly, mustering all the confidence he could, using his hurt and anger as a source.

“Maybe that’s exactly why he doesn’t want to talk to you, Rose. And you know what, we all had a great time without you there, including Albus. Let me know when you’ve come down from your saintly pedestal to mix with us mere mortals. Maybe then we can talk.”

“Scorpius, please—”

Resentments that had been dormant within him began to boil over in his heart. “And to think, I used to be a bit jealous of you all with your big, happy, perfect family. If that means staying when someone goes after your _friend_ , then I think I should be grateful I’m not one of you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I mean. If Boot and your idiot boyfriend went after anyone else like they did me, you would have stood up for them. But not me. Why not me, Rose?”

“It’s not like that, Scorpius."

“You won’t even admit it. You’re still acting like you’re better than the rest of us because of who your parents are—”

“I’m not! Stop pretending you know what it’s like for—”

“I _don’t_ know, and I don’t care, Rose. Not anymore,” Scorpius said. He was going to say more but stopped himself. He turned around and marched off and Rose watched with a mixture of anger, regret and shame that she could hardly make sense of. Something was beginning to chip away at her stubborn resolve. Perhaps Scorpius was righter than even he knew.


	17. Like Father, Like Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way too long, I'm sorry but I had to get things moving. Thank you for reading and I'll fix any typos I missed soon!

_“Must you force that upon him, Winters?” Draco asked over breakfast one morning when Scorpius was only ten months old._

_“It seems both of you are far too particular for your own goods,” Valeria said with a sly smirk. As young as the baby was, he was quite opinionated like his father, and admittedly his mother, before him. The issue of the day; Scorpius refused to eat his mushed beets._

_“I’m just saying it’s cruel and unusual,” Draco said, a bit amused by the sight of his wife not getting her way and being powerless to do anything about it for once._

_“Then you should give it a try if you’re such an expert. Perhaps you can try the celery,” Valeria said, examining another jar of puréed vegetables._

_“That’s worse than the beets, woman,” Draco said. “I cannot abide my son suffering this way under your draconian rule.”_

_“They’re good for him.”_

_“Then they should taste better and prove it.”_

_“He’s only doing this because you gave him that chocolate!”_

_“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean,” Draco teased._

_“Since you caused this, you have to distract him.”_

_“You’ve fought scarier things than a baby, darling. I think we’re overthinking it.”_

_“I should have known that more Malfoys meant more stubbornness in my peaceful life. Think for a moment. What worked with you as a baby? Did your mother ever say?”_

_“We never really discussed it.”_

_“Well, try something. Do a dance, sing a song, make a face—”_

_“Sing a song?”_

_“Something, Draco!”_

_“Alright, alright,” Draco said. He set down his morning coffee and turned to Scorpius. Draco straightened up and brought his index fingers to the corner of his mouth and stretched, sticking his tongue out of his mouth and crossing his eyes. Scorpius squealed with glee and it was then Valeria snuck a spoonful of beets into her son’s mouth._

_“Make some noise or something so he swallows it,” Valeria ordered with a whisper, as if Scorpius could understand them. Draco obliged, watching his son’s face twist in revulsion at the taste of beets, making silly farting noises with his mouth. Unfortunately, Scorpius quickly became bored with Draco’s performance and forced the latter to alter his strategy._

_Using the cloth napkin that accompanied his breakfast, Draco held in front of his face to hide and quickly lowered it, surprising young Scorpius each time with each high-pitched cry of “PEEK-A-BOO!” allowing Valeria to covertly feed him the dreaded mess of beets. Scorpius cried out in laughter each time, though he was much less delighted with his breakfast. Valeria feared she was destined to become the more hated parent._

_“Keep it up, he loves it,” Valeria insisted._

_“This is worse than Azkaban…” Draco whined._

_She turned to him with a smirk. “You’re enjoying this, don’t deny it. Only a couple spoonfuls left. Go again.”_

_“PEEK-A-BOO!” Draco said, to Scorpius’s amusement._

_A mouthful of beets and more revulsion._

_“PEEK-A-BOO!” Draco said once more, using his wand to levitate the napkin and letting it fly up with a flick of his wrist._

_With a mouthful of beets, but a smile on his face, Scorpius cried out “Da-Da!”_

_And Draco’s heart nearly froze as if struck in the chest to hear his son say it. Draco knew he was a father. Draco had felt it the moment he tearfully, which had abashed him, first held Scorpius in his arms. Scorpius had gestured to him, the best a baby could, when Valeria taught him that Draco was “dad.” But to hear his son say it, to hear his son recognize him as his father, was something else entirely. Valeria too had nearly dropped the little spoon she was feeding with Scorpius and she smiled wide and bright, speaking to Scorpius with maternal affirmation and encouragement._

_And all the while, Draco felt the iron grip of pain and memory that had long had a stranglehold on his heart weaken._

_Draco and Valeria had been entirely unprepared for Scorpius’s first word, but they were no more prepared for anything else about parenthood._

_“Alright. We must all be in our places. Is that absolutely understood?” Valeria said, sounding more like a war general than a mother._

_Draco nodded._

_“Tilly has the camera. I want this perfectly documented, yes?”_

_“Yes, Madam Malfoy!” Tilly called lumbering with the camera._

_“We abort if it looks like it’s not quite time. Draco stand there. No, further back. Just a tinge closer—”_

_“For God’s sake, Winters—” Draco said._

_“It can’t be too long or too short! We must find the perfect balance based on his natural progress!”_

_“Val,” Draco said with a sigh, crouching uncomfortably just a few feet away from Valeria. “He’s ready.”_

_Valeria looked down. She was supporting a giddy, one year old that very day, Scorpius just under his shoulders, letting his little legs move freely and almost weightlessly beneath the baby. The baby was almost laughing as he wiggled, as if itching to get out of his mother’s arms for a few sweet moments of independence. He looked up at his mother with her eyes and his father’s white-blond hair, so white and soft that Valeria once in a while feared he may be balding._

_Draco looked at his wife and saw for absolute certain a mother’s joy and simultaneous sorrow. The unbridled pride in one’s own child for their accomplishments with the bitter aftertaste of knowing that this is how it would always be and that their job was to teach their son how to leave them. It was hard enough for Draco to know that this beacon of innocence would one day, in all likelihood, talk back at him, make his mistakes, might even have to suffer in the heart. For the life of him, Draco could not imagine what he would feel of having grown his offspring from his own body and bring the child to life in blood and in pain._

_Though his patience had been wearing thin for a moment, he understood. He could not help but to feel the upmost love and nearly holy respect for the woman whose very existence was a blessing upon his tumultuous life. He would have worshipped her if such a faith were allowed._

_Her eyes met his._

_“Yes,” she whispered. “I’m just not sure that I am.”_

_Scorpius shrieked. The sort of unhindered shriek of pure youth that babes often let out. It was as if the boy was seconding his father. **Yes, mother. I’m ready.** Even if it wasn’t true, it did not matter, Draco knew, for the baby believed it. Judging by the looks of his son, Draco sensed that that boy was a Malfoy through and through. And once a Malfoy set made up their mind, no matter how arrogant or ill-formed, they could not be stopped, and it was a damn insult to attempt to persuade them otherwise. _

_He knew Valeria would never be ready and the truth was nor was he. They would never be ready. They were not ready for this. They would not be ready for his first rebellion. His first venture to Hogwarts. His first love. His first heartbreak. Scorpius’s first anything. Hell, they had not been ready for Scorpius himself. Though Draco would never call his son an “accident” he was willing to admit that his son’s conception itself had been unintended._

_Scorpius had surprised them. He surprised them every day. Seeing the world through undarkened eyes had been the light of their lives so far. The way Scorpius marveled at magic, even the most simple and mundane sort of spells, made Draco feel exceptional for once. Draco almost envied the innate, fearless curiosity of childhood._

_“He’ll go on his own eventually, with or without your help.”_

_“Then he won’t need me.” It was true that she was far more afraid for Scorpius than Scorpius was of anything._

_“He will always need you. Both of us will,” Draco said. He outstretched his arms. “Let go, darling.” Valeria smiled, a proud and sad sort of smile, and Draco watched as she propped Scorpius up on his feet a little firmer and slowly dropped her hands. Draco gestured for Scorpius to come towards him, coaxing with high-pitched words of encouragement._

_And Scorpius took a step forward. His very first and barely six inches long in stride, but Draco’s heart felt like it had leapt a thousand miles to see it. Valeria had her hand over her mouth to contain her pride and joy, trying not to distract Scorpius from the goal and scooting along behind him to catch him should he fall. She moved suddenly when Scorpius lost his balance, but the baby caught himself with his hands on the floor and stood back up as if it was easy, as if it was not a monumental triumph, as if it was wholly and completely natural._

_Draco could not comprehend how such a little thing could be so much stronger than he himself was even as it happened right before his very eyes. When Scorpius met his outstretched arms, falling into Draco’s a little as youngsters do, Draco could not help but come to a stand, lifting his boy in the air and holding him overhead in victory. He tipped the baby, gently and carefully of course, upside and blew a raspberry on his belly before propping him up once more in his arms. Valeria met him too, applauding to Scorpius softly and gleefully, congratulating the baby on a milestone he would not even fully remember._

_Scorpius grabbed at Draco’s face, smiling and laughing, all the while saying “Da-Da! Da-Da!”_

_His mother supported him to let him stand on his own feet. To go._

_His father was there to catch him._

_And always would be._

But that memory sat far back in Draco’s mind as he was tense now. Valeria was anxious too, but she hid it much better than him, as she always did. They kept close together, keeping themselves away from the assembling crowd of parents at Platform 9 ¾ all waiting to retrieve their respective children for the Easter recess. Draco could feel the stares from the onlookers. The disturbing news in that morning’s paper happened to break on a day that the Malfoys had to be in public. Just their luck. The Malfoys were relieved when the train finally arrived and came to a stop. Draco put his hand on his wife’s shoulder and spoke quietly to her.

“I’ll go find Scorpius. You wait for us here,” he said. She was excited to see her son but did not want to draw attention to their family. The stares and odd looks bothered Draco too, but he was willing to bear the brunt of it, if only to alleviate a little of her discomfort, as best he could.

“Valeria,” Harry Potter greeted as he approached her. Her heart sank at the sound of his voice and she mustered all the dignity she could to hide her discomfort.

“Potter, good to see you,” she said, turning to him.

“Look, about what’s in the paper. I was wondering if we could perhaps make an appointment to discuss it,” he said, just as uncomfortable as she was.

“Whatever for?”

“Valeria, please. I know you’re not that dim. It happened near your home.”

“Welsh Green dragons have also been known to nest near my home and I don’t see any reason to talk about that either,” she said.

“I cannot stress this enough; If what’s been happening has escalated to attacking muggles…If you know anything about what happened—”

“And what would I know, Potter? What would Draco know? What motivation could we possibly have to attack a couple muggle boys? From what the paper said, it happened months ago—”

“Yes. We only found about it now after the survivor was found wandering London, though he’s been safely brought back home. That part of Wales is so remote, I reckon you’re the only magical folk in that part of the country. We tried to learn what we could from him—”

“I’m not interested, Potter. I wish you all the best in your investigation,” she said. The two old enemies, and one-time reluctant allies, stared each other down for a moment before Potter made his exit, still unsatisfied with the conversation. Meanwhile, Scorpius and Albus were slowly moving through the crowd on the train, waiting to deboard.

“Maybe I could come ‘round to yours over the break. The thought of spending all of it with my family…” Albus said.

“I don’t see why my parents would say no,” Scorpius said.

“Brilliant,” Albus said as they stepped off the train. Scorpius looked up to see his father coming toward them. Mrs. Potter was calling Albus’s name from the other direction.

“I’m sorry, Scorpius but we shouldn’t linger long. Your mother and I have some work at home,” Draco said as he approached the boys.

“I’ll write soon,” Albus said, giving Scorpius a friendly hug. “Happy Easter, Mr. Malfoy.”

“You too, Albus,” Draco said patiently. He put a hand on his son’s shoulder when Albus left and encouraged Scorpius to follow him. Scorpius could sense something was off, but perhaps his father was just in a mood. He never liked crowds much anyway.

“Scorpius!”

Both Malfoys stopped to see Octavia trotting up to them. She hugged Scorpius with a polite smile.

“You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?” she asked.

“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t thinking,” Scorpius said. There was an awkward pause amongst the three that lingered until Draco cleared his throat. “Oh, right. Octavia this is my father. Father this is Octavia Warrington.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Malfoy,” Octavia said, shaking Draco’s hand.

“Right, it’s been quite some time. I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were a toddler,” Draco said. “I’m sorry, Octavia, but we really must be going.”

“Not at all, sir. I’ll write, Scorpius,” she said. Scorpius smiled with a little blush and nodded as she turned to find her father.

“She seems nice,” Draco said once Octavia was out of earshot. Scorpius agreed, though he was still blushing. Scorpius hugged his mother and she embraced him tighter than usual before fussing over his hair, as she so often did. Draco insisted they get going home and they disembarked without incident, though Scorpius saw his mother lean up and whisper in his father’s ear.

Scorpius didn’t hear the news about what had happened to those Welsh muggle boys all that time ago, and while it struck him as quite odd indeed, his mind was far more preoccupied with matters that immediately concerned him. He had missed his parents but was almost more excited to return to Hogwarts where his friends were and where he was enjoying the benefits of his newfound social popularity. He was excited to arrange a visit with Albus and receive correspondence from Octavia. He felt it was best to fill his time waiting to go back with reading on his task in the Chamber of Secrets, which still made him anxious; He’d often catch himself biting his lip whilst thinking long and hard on the difficulty of his mission. It was easy enough to occupy himself over the next couple days, as Scorpius’s parents seemed quite preoccupied themselves.

The following day, Draco returned home in the late afternoon after feigning an errand. Scorpius paid very little mind to this as it was not suspicious in and of itself. While Scorpius was reading in the crisp spring air of the courtyard, Draco and Valeria retreated to Draco’s study.

“You sure it was the right boy?” Valeria asked Draco as he explained.

“There’s not many people in that village at all, let alone young men who appear permanently disoriented,” Draco said. He had used a disillusionment charm and wandered the rural, Welsh-speaking hamlet nearby. Though he could only catch a few words here and there, he saw a young man, only a few years older than Scorpius, walking arm-in-arm with a woman Draco assumed was the boy’s mother.

“How’d he look? What was his condition?” Valeria asked tentatively, folding her arms.

“Unwell. I’m no Healer, but from what I could tell his state seemed magically induced. He kept looking off, as if searching for something but not actually looking at anything and he barely spoke, though he had physical control of himself. It was like he was locked in a daydream.”

“Or a nightmare,” Valeria said with a sigh. “That must be Rhys you saw. The paper said the Ministry brought some Healers to try and help mend his mind and jog his memory but were unsuccessful. No sign of the other one? Bowen?”

Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded, weathered piece of paper and handed it to his wife. There was a picture of a smiling young man, Bowen Folland, and under his photograph the word **_MISSING_**. The rest of the information was given in Welsh and English, but some of it confused Valeria, being quite unfamiliar with how muggles did things.

“Seems not,” Draco said.

“Damn,” Valeria said. “I was hoping we could find something…”

“There’s another way,” Draco said, his voice hesitant and low.

“What are you talking about?” Valeria looked up at him with dread.

“We can investigate it ourselves.”

“And how do you propose we do that? If the aurors and the Healers couldn’t get anything out of him, how the hell are we supposed to? Can’t very well go up and ask, can we?”

Draco curled his lip inward on his inhale. “Legilimency.”

“Draco, you can’t be serious. Do you even know how—”

“I do. And on a confused muggle who has no concept of what’s happening, it shouldn’t be difficult.”

Valeria threw up her hands and ran her fingers through her hair at what she was hearing before marching over to Draco and looking up at him, speaking low. “Do you even hear yourself? The Ministry takes magic on muggles more seriously than they ever did, let alone using legilimency, which, need I remind you, is barely legal even under the most justified circumstances. If we’re caught anywhere near this—”

“We’re already near it, if what the paper says is true. Potter already suspects we know something with how he approached you at Platform 9 ¾, you said it yourself.”

“And what Rhys says something? He might not remember what happened to him, but he may damn well remember a wizard casting spells on him.”

“You’ve got a whole shelf of memory potions in that cabinet downstairs…”

“Draco!”

“We can’t just do nothing!”

“And why not? We narrowly avoided life sentences once, how can you possibly suggest we risk this? If we stay out of it, they’ll see we have nothing to do with it in time. And who says it was the work of dark witches or wizards? My ancestors have lived here for centuries and many of their secrets have been lost. I’m willing to bet there are many places in these mountains that are still bewitched or enchanted that could be disastrous if a muggle were to accidentally wander into them.”

“And you might very well be right, but either way we need to get ahead of this. Whatever it is, even if it’s nothing. The only reason the Ministry found out about this is because this boy got lost in London when his family took him to some muggle doctor. Who knows what else has happened. At least if we can gather what we can, we can plan. And I sincerely doubt Potter will share anything about the investigation with us, so we’ll have to do something on own.”

She took a step toward and rested her hands on his forearms, imploring him with her eyes to reconsider. “Have you gone mad? This isn’t your collection of dark artifacts or my experiments with poison. This is worse than us practicing actual dark spells in our own home. If this goes wrong, it’ll be harder to hide. We agreed, the morning after we were acquitted, that we’d never get involved like this again.”

“Valeria,” Draco began with a sigh. “I’ve said it all those years ago and I’ll say it again now; We’ve always been involved.”

Valeria looked at the floor with dread, pausing for a long moment of consideration before looking back up at Draco. “And what’s your plan?”

“I followed Rhys and his mother back to their house, I know where they live. There’s a dog, but I didn’t notice anything else that would impede us. We go, late in the night, use silencing charms and disillusionment charms, sneak into the house and I’ll try to access Rhys’s memories. Then, before we leave, you’ll give him one of those memory potions, so he doesn’t remember us at all,” Draco explained.

Valeria was still unhappy but was not going to argue with him. “I’ll need a bit. I might have to adjust the potion since we’re giving it to a muggle.”

“Is a half a day enough time?”

“You want to go tonight!?”

“I want to get this over as soon as possible,” Draco said.

Valeria rolled her eyes. “I better get to work then.”

It went without saying that Scorpius could not be allowed to know what his parents were planning. Valeria thoroughly instructed the house elf to keep an eye on Scorpius, making sure he stayed in his room asleep and unaware that night, and to distract the boy should he awaken and wander. Valeria had begrudgingly come to understand Draco’s side whilst she worked in her potions laboratory deep in the dungeons of the castle. She often did her most difficult thinking there. As she tampered with the mildest memory potion in her stores, she became more paranoid that Draco’s gut was right and that there was some dark sorcery afoot near their home. They had to keep any suspicion, as unwarranted as it was, off of them. If not for theirs, but for Scorpius’s sake. They had come too far, albeit reluctantly and slowly, to let their progress in this new world slip away.

Valeria stood close beside Draco and took his arm. She hated side-along apparition, but Draco had just been to their destination earlier that day. They were all in black and cloaked with their hoods up. Draco tapped her head with his wand before circling it around himself, casting a disillusionment charm on each of them. Once finished, they departed in silence, save for a small pop that signaled their arrival at their destination.

It was nearly pitch black on the chilly spring night. They landed on a dirt road in the village and the hills in the background were darker than the misty clouds in the moonlight sky. Valeria breathed through the discomfort of side-along apparition and looked about. There were only a few buildings in sight, primarily small stone houses or shops. Only a few of them had an outdoor light on with their muggle electricity. All else was dead to the world and to them.

“It’s down this way,” Draco said quietly, and Valeria held his arm, both their wands drawn as she followed him. They crossed an ancient stone bridge over a narrow, little river and made a turn toward the darkness, treading a narrow dirt road lined by thick, barely groomed trees. Moving through the quaint muggle hamlet, Valeria felt like a trespasser; like she was teetering on the dangerous edge of meddling just a little too deeply in a world that she did not understand.

The village behind them, Draco directed her down a narrow path leading from the road that was barely visible in the darkness. The stony, unkept road turned to dirt under her feet and insight came a stone house. In the moonlight she could see it pale in color, built long ago with stone that over the decades had come to crack. Near the house were two old muggle cars; those noisy, metal monstrosities that Valeria feared. The black smoke that came from them always ignited tormented memories in her mind.

A dog barked and the Malfoys stopped in their tracks. A hound, shaggy and medium sized stood with its front paws on the sill of a window that was open a crack. Its bark broke the silence of the crisp mountain night. Draco raised his wand and silently cast a mild sleeping spell, aiming carefully as he took a few steps forward. The barking at once ceased and the dog fell into a relaxed, peaceful slumber that would carry it through to dawn.

Valeria magically unlocked the door and Draco slowly pushed it open as it creaked. They dared not illuminate their wands just yet as they stepped in. Valeria immediately heard the idle buzzing of kitchen appliances in the next room over as they made for the stairs. Draco magically silenced their footsteps as the creaking of the old wood failed to stop and as they passed the closed doors of the upstairs rooms in the cramped little hall, Valeria felt a tinge of guilt for the muggles who dwelled there and the invasion she and her husband were now committing against they who could not understand who or what they were.

One of the doors had a sign bearing the name Rhys. A sign that was faded with time made by a boy much younger than the man was now; a leftover childhood artifact which made Draco and Valeria’s mission easier. Deftly and silent as the grave Draco opened the door and closed it swiftly behind them before casting powerful silencing charms over the entire room. Even if Rhys fought them, cried out or worse, not a soul would hear him. Rhys was bundled up in his blankets, the top cover looking handmade with love as the moon lit his bed through the window.

“Be gentle with him. Please,” Valeria quietly asked as Rhys let out a small, sleepy sigh. The request was not for his sake, but for hers. The disillusionment charms were removed as they knew it would frighten Rhys more otherwise. Draco stepped forward, Valeria at his side. Wand at the ready and pointed at Rhys, Draco gently put his hand on his shoulder. To his absolute shock, Rhys’s eyes flew open and he shuffled backwards on the bed, trying to pull from Draco’s grasp. Draco shushed him and lifted his wand to meet Rhys’s eyes, which widened in horror and realization.

Draco stopped for a moment. “You recognize this, don’t you?”

But Rhys did not, perhaps could not answer. His lips quivered and stammered as if he were trying to speak. Valeria felt pangs of sympathy for Rhys having also feared hooded wizards capturing her in the night when she was just a few years younger than the boy.

“We aren’t here to harm you. We need to know what happened. Can you tell us anything you remember? Anything at all?” Draco asked, his voice low and firm but calm.

Rhys’s lips moved again, quivering harder as weak unformed sounds escaped his throat. “Cwfl… Dau…Gaef…Bedd Gaef…”

Draco turned to his wife. “What’s he saying?”

Valeria’s Welsh wasn’t great, but those simple words she understood. “Hood, two, Winter…Winter grave.”

“Croeshoelio…Cruci…Crucify…Cruci-o…” Rhys spoke in a thick Welsh accent. Valeria felt a chill run down her spine and judging by the look on Draco’s face, there was no need for her to translate. “Memory…tormentatum…”

“ _Tormentum Memoria_ …?” Draco asked, naming the spell that Rhys was trying to articulate.

“The Mind Mangling Curse?” Valeria said in disbelief. They knew the curse well. A disorienting spell considered dark magic that would confuse thoughts and memories in the mind of the cursed. It was a somewhat mild spell that could be resisted or even cured if placed on a witch or wizard, but Valeria feared that a muggle would be powerless against it.

“Avda…Bowen…Avda Kodarva….” Rhys said. Valeria’s heart dropped like an anvil. The paper mentioned the other muggle boy who had not been found, Bowen.

“Valeria…I have to do it,” Draco said with dread at the realization of what Rhys was saying. Valeria swallowed and nodded, silently giving her blessing and her forgiveness. Draco turned to the boy and with no warning cast the spell, _Legilimens._ Draco traversed the depths of Rhys’s distorted mind, seeing flashes of hooded men in the darkness in a hidden grove. He recognized the place at once. He tried to avoid anything that did not pertain to their purpose, but Rhys’s memories were so scattered that seeing other parts of the young man’s life was inescapable.

He saw the other boy that he recognized from the paper, Bowen. Draco saw Bowen as a boy and a young man, alive and laughing, with bright brown eyes. He saw brown eyes, rendered lifeless. There were dark swirling clouds of black mist all around the grove. There was a long, dark wand pointed in Rhys’s face. There were sounds of voices, distorted but clearly men speaking calmly. Draco could hardly make out a single word.

 _“Leave that one. Teach the muggles not to wander…”_ said one of the men, but that’s all Draco could make out. Flashes of green and red light. Screaming. The sound of screaming. The feeling of trying to hold onto oneself but feeling the soul meltaway, like trying to hold water in your hands. Draco felt his resolve weaken in empathic pain, feeling all of Rhys’s pain and fear, but held firm. He heard one of the men speak the curse, _Crucio_.

It was too much for Draco after that. He relented, leaving Rhys’s mind. He came to, breathing hard, Valeria gripping his shoulders in support. Draco looked at Rhys, in a similar state.

“Give him the potion,” Draco requested as he collected himself. Valeria grabbed the glass of water on Rhys’s bedside table and carefully poured the contents of the little vial into it. It shimmered in the moonlight as it mixed with the water turning a sparkling silvery color. She handed it to Rhys who hesitantly took it from her hand. “Will he remember? Will he remember what I did to him?” Draco asked quietly.

“No. All he should remember are pleasant dreams and peaceful rest.”

As with most holidays, Easter lasted nearly the entirety of the school recess at the Potter house. The sheer size of the Weasley clan and its familial units made it so seeing everyone was impossible to cram into just a couple of days. Albus had spent his week being ferried from home-to-home or hosting relatives in his own home. It was loud, rambunctious and often amusing, but Albus was quickly growing exhausted.

Everyone was of course interested in James and his status as the jewel in house Gryffindor’s crown, at least, so it seemed to Albus. Rose’s studies were also a much talked of point of pride. Even Hugh and Lily were more interesting to much of the family than Albus was. He had tried to participate. He talked about his friends, all the fun he was having, the austere wonder of the Slytherin common room.

“Creepy place for a creepy lot,” James said, to the amusement of a few of the relatives; the others paid no mind to the comment in the chaos of the holiday. Though James did not mean it in hatred, Albus still felt wounded in his odd case of homesickness. Albus tried to stay up in his room as long as possible, catching up on letters from his friends, when the Granger-Weasleys came over for dinner yet again. He was trying to hide his quarrel with Rose from their parents, knowing they’d immediately meddle and likely, though inadvertently, make it worse.

“Albus,” Harry Potter said cheerfully as he opened Albus’s bedroom door. “Come down and join us.”

“Do I have to?” Albus asked with a sigh, setting Fiona’s letter off to the side. “I just saw them at grandma and grandpa’s like two days ago. I wanted to write back to my friends.”

“You’ll see them in a few days. We won’t all be able to be together until the end of term. It’s a nice night, maybe you and Rose will wanna play some Quidditch out back.”

“I don’t want to play Quidditch.”

“That’s fine. Just come on and visit for a bit.”

Albus didn’t argue and went downstairs as he was asked. The adults seemed to enjoy this more than the kids, save for Hugh and Lily who were thick as thieves. Albus sat with his arms folded in an armchair, trying to melt into it as best he could. The parents didn’t notice for a while, too engrossed with each other, and Albus had to wonder if these visits were more for their sake than the rest of the families’, the way they seemed to need each other to all feel complete. But he was far too grumpy to linger on such ideas.

“I’m sure there are far fewer fist fights in Quidditch these days. Tell us, Albus, are Slytherin’s strategies any tamer than they used to be?” Ron asked. The fact that he and Rose had hardly exchanged two words had gone unnoticed by the adults and Albus’s sour mood was starting to get the better of him.

“Can’t talk strategy in the presence of the enemy, sorry,” Albus said. Had he said such a thing in a more lighthearted tone, he would have surely gotten a laugh, but given his bitter tone and his strained relationship with Rose, it was not meant to be.

“So I’m the _enemy_ now?!” Rose exclaimed.

“Feeling’s mutual, Albus,” James said, trying to be funny, with a nonchalant shrug.

“Guess so,” Albus said flatly.

“Really?! And how long are you going to hold this stupid, immature grudge—”

“Rose!” Hermione scolded. “What’s this all about?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Albus said spitefully to Rose. He was being mean, he knew it, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Albus!” Ginny said sternly.

“First your birthday party and now you can’t even be nice to me outside of school?”

“Birthday party?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, the Slytherins took over the Three Broomsticks one day for a surprise party for Albus,” James said, being more amused with the fight than he probably should have been.

“That sounds nice,” Hermione said.

“Except we were purposely not invited!”

“It was a surprise party; I didn’t decide who was invited!” Albus said.

“That’s not the point. Scorpius told me that you had a great time without me there and that’s the issue!”

“Malfoy’s kid said what?” Ron said defensively.

“You bothered Scorpius about this? Really?! You know what, I’m glad he said it because he was right!”

“Albus, stop this right now!” Harry said, voice raised in paternal discipline.

“I didn’t want you, I didn’t want James, I didn’t want Lily there! I just wanted to be with my friends! At least they understand! At least they know and respect what I want for once!” Albus erupted, ignoring his father.

“And what’s that!? Sneak around with Scorpius and get up to trouble? What, you didn’t think I’d notice you were up to something?!” Rose yelled back.

“No! With them, I can get some damn peace and quiet. With them, it doesn’t feel like I’m related to any of you!” Albus said, voice dripping with years of poorly understood adolescent resentment. Rose stopped as the room fell quiet and without a word, with tears welling in her eyes, she rushed out of the room and out the front door. Hermione rushed after her and Albus turned to his father, whose face was red with anger or embarrassment.

“To your room. Now!” Harry ordered and Albus spitefully obliged, marching his way there without a word. He heard murmuring below over the course of many, many minutes and in that time, Albus retreated back to the letters from his Slytherin friends. The letters, though mundane in detail, were exactly what he needed. They felt normal. They felt like home. Then his father walked into room.

“You will write an apology to Rose immediately,” Harry said.

“Why would I? I meant all of it,” Albus said.

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am!”

“She’s your cousin. You two were always close—”

“Well, things change.”

“I don’t know what this is about but lashing out like that was unacceptable.”

“I told you all what it was about. All I wanted was a night to myself to read my letters and write back to my friends, but I couldn’t even have that even though I’ve seen all of them this entire damn break.”

“Language, Albus,” Harry said before taking a pause. “Is this about what happened at the gala with Scorpius?”

“No, but that didn’t help!”

“It’s okay to disagree sometimes, but we’re family in the end. That’s important. That matters.”

“It doesn’t feel that way sometimes.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I don’t feel like I’m properly part of this family.”

“Of course you are, Albus.”

“You don’t get it! I’m not like you all. I don’t like the same things you do. I don’t like people looking at me the way they do because I’m your son. I’m not even in the same house! You always go on about how your friends were your family when you were my age, and maybe that’s what it’s like for me too. I don’t understand why you won’t let me have what you did!”

“Have what I did? Albus, I would have given anything, everything, to have a family like you have. Do you know what it was like for me—”

“How can I not, it’s everywhere and no one ever shuts up about it! I know it must have been so hard being the most famous person in the world, living with muggles, everyone singing your praises at the Battle of Hogwarts after you stopped Volde—”

“That’s not what it was like!” Harry shouted, louder than he ever shouted at his son before and loud enough to take Albus aback. Albus saw a frenzied look in his father’s eyes and felt an onslaught of guilt and confusion. Harry never discussed the Battle of Hogwarts, save for the basic details. Albus was too young, too naïve, to understand how much it haunted Harry Potter. “I saw my friends, my family, die that day! I heard your mother screaming when she thought I was dead! I had to walk into that forest to die and all I asked of you was to spend a night with your family!”

“Dad—!”

“I don’t want to hear it! You will stay in this room for now until we decide how to ensure that you grow up and think about others before you speak,” Harry said. Albus went to talk again. “Not another word!”

Albus could have sworn he saw a tear in his father’s eyes as Harry left the room. Left alone with his own complex feelings, Albus knew he could not bear to stay in the house a minute longer. He could not face what he had said nor what would eventually be said to him in consequence eventually. Harry was right, Albus did not understand. Albus’s life was a world away from Harry’s, it felt, despite how similar they truly were. Albus looked at his broom, then to his owl. He quickly and on complete impulse penned a letter quickly on parchment.

Sure enough, sometime later that evening in Wales, Scorpius was busy in his room reviewing his notes on their work in the Chamber of Secrets, filled with a sort of analytical detachment for their task. It would have surprised him, had he lingered on it, at how normal his deviance had become. He was jolted from his concentration with the furious tapping of an owl’s beak on his window, an owl he recognized at once.

The letter seemed to have been written so quickly that Scorpius struggled to read the penmanship. He was startled to hear about the arguments Albus had with his family, but the end of the letter struck him more.

_Can I stay at yours? Just a few days to the end of break? Can I get there somehow? I have enough on hand for a night at the Leaky Cauldron. That’s where I am now. I’m sorry about this, but please?_

_-Albus Potter_

“See, there’s the issue, you have the formula backwards,” Valeria said, reviewing some of Draco’s notes on a potion in his collections that he pursued for a hobby.

“But that’s what all the recent sources say,” Draco argued.

“Yes, I’m sure you got that from Bancroft. He’s a hack who has no appreciation for the artistry of potions—”

But the middle-aged parents could not continue their thrilling intellectual discussion when the door burst open and Scorpius darted into the parlor with Albus’s letter in hand.

“Mum, father! AlbusIsInTroubleHeHadAnArgumentWithHisFamilyAndWeNeedToGoGetHimRIGHTNOW—!”

Startled and bewildered they had managed to get Scorpius to catch his breath and slow down, allowing the boy to explain the whole story and reading Albus’s letter. They mused back and forth about how to proceed, admittedly hesitant to get involved. Draco was sure that Harry Potter would quickly retrieve his son and it was only a teenage blunder. But Scorpius would not rest until he found Albus himself, even daring to suggest going on his own to the Leaky Cauldron.

“You go and find Albus. I’ll go talk to the Potters. We’ll go from there. I’ll open the floo,” Valeria said. After some quick and careful coordination, the Malfoys separated and were off. The innkeeper was startled at the late-evening arrival of Draco and Scorpius. Draco had a hand on his son’s shoulder, practically holding him place to keep the boy from running off and knocking on each door until they found Albus. Draco simply asked the innkeeper.

Scorpius was relieved to find his friend, but not as relieved as Albus was to see him. Albus explained the events to Draco in a polite and sympathetic manner. He doubly insisted that he did not want to return home that evening.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy, I know this looks bad, but I’ll be of no trouble. And my parents don’t have to know. I’d probably be better off if my dad didn’t know, actually.”

“There’s many things I can do, Albus, but lying to Harry Potter about his son is one thing I can’t do,” Draco said.

Things were less smooth at the Potters’.

Ginny, in tears, nearly fell over backward seeing Valeria on her doorstep, but reluctantly let her inside when the latter presented Albus’s letter to Scorpius. Ginny prepared an anxious cup of tea for Valeria whilst waiting for Harry to return. The two women, who had not repaired the past between them enough to call each other polite acquaintances, said nothing to each other whilst waiting. And when he did return, the door swung open as if struck by a battering ram.

“The aurors have been alerted and I sent word from the Ministry that—” Harry stopped seeing Valeria sitting at his kitchen table. “Valeria?”

“Albus wrote to Scorpius. He’s at the Leaky Cauldron,” Ginny said, handing Harry the letter. Harry read it over and shoved it back to Ginny.

“I’ll get there now,” he said. He turned to go, but Ginny stopped him.

“I think we should consider Albus staying with Scorpius, just to the end of break,” Ginny said. Harry looked flabbergasted and Valeria had to admit that it shocked her too.

“What? No! After what happened—”

“After what happened, maybe you both need it,” Ginny said. “He’s safe. Malfoy and Scorpius are likely with him now.”

Harry sighed in frustration, rubbing his temple. A sadness overwhelmed, a deep, crippling dread. “What if he thinks we don’t want him here?”

“He won’t,” Valeria interjected. “He’s a bright boy, Potter. He knows he can always come back. He is welcome at ours, but we won’t do anything without your express permission.

“No offense, Valeria, but this is between me and Ginny—”

“I understand completely. I apologize for overstepping. Perhaps you would like to have this conversation between yourself somewhere more private. I’m more than happy to wait.”

“Right. Yeah. Of course,” Potter said, still frazzled. He and Ginny retreated to another room while Valeria sat on, nursing her tea, in wait.

“Psst. Psst! Mrs. Malfoy.”

Valeria looked up to the doorway of the homely kitchen to see James, whom she recognized, poking his head in.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

“Is Albus okay?”

“He’s just fine, I assure you.”

“Great,” he said, taking a step into the room. “You’re like the Potions lady, right? That’s what Albus said.”

“Pardon?”

James came closer, looking about for prying eyes and ears, leaning over the table to whisper to Valeria. “Professor Longbottom gave us this project, we had to take care of a Fabergé Plant, the ones with the buds that are so fragile that they’ll shatter if you even look at them the wrong way. We were meant to take care of it for the break, but I let a golden snitch out in my room the other day and the damn thing broke every bud on the plant. I’m going to fail if I don’t think of something and fast—” 

“I’m very sorry to hear that, but what do you need from me?”

“Is there like a potion or a solution I can get that’ll trick Longbottom into giving me a decent mark? Or even one that’ll make the buds grow back? I’m waiting, but they take so damn long to grow…” James said. Valeria was trying very hard not to laugh. Fortunately, she did not have to hide it when after a moment Harry and Ginny reentered the kitchen.

“James? What’re you doing?” Harry asked.

“I was just seeing if Mrs. Malfoy needed anything,” James lied, standing straight up.

“He was just being polite, Potter. Thank you, James. Might I suggest Bartholomew’s Maturation Solution? I think it would be a good place to start,” Valeria said.

“To your room. Now,” Ginny ordered. James obeyed, though with a sneaky smile on his face. Harry looked bewildered, but far too distressed to question it further. Harry reluctantly approached Valeria, sitting down for what was probably the first time in hours. He sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

“Albus can stay with you, but only if he writes daily and if he does anything wrong, he comes straight home,” Harry said regretfully.

“I’ll go back him a bag to take with you,” Ginny said, turning to go upstairs, leaving Harry and Valeria alone.

“I guess I should thank you, but I don’t feel grateful,” Harry admitted.

“I wouldn’t expect either of those things,” Valeria said. "I don't want to meddle, but I want to be certain you're alright with this. I know we didn't exactly part on good terms, the business with those muggles..."

"It's bad for my job to say so, but that's the last thing I care about right now."

"Fair enough."

“The last thing I wanted was for him to feel like he didn’t have a home…that he didn’t belong…” Harry mused. Valeria was not entirely sure she was meant to hear this and shifted in her seat. It was as though Harry’s panicked mind was thinking aloud as it struggled to return to a calm. “I feel like I’m flying blind.”

“We all are, Potter. One argument is hardly a sign of failure. Didn’t you ever feel the urge to run away from it all?”

Harry laughed a little and nodded. “I actually did try it once, summer before third year.” He paused. “You?”

She gave him a look. “That’s hardly a question now, is it?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Problem for me was that I hardly had anywhere to run away to. I think it’s a mark in your favor that Albus does. That he didn’t try to go off on his own,” she said.

Harry nodded. “Not like us.”

“Not like us,” she agreed.

“It’s hard to remember what it’s like for them, isn’t it? It was just…so different when we were their age.”

“And we should be glad for it.”

“Of course. Doesn’t make it any easier to relate them in some ways.”

“We were still just kids. Just like them.”

“I haven’t felt like a kid since I was Albus’s age,” Harry said, looking down at the table.

“I wish I could disagree,” she said, pausing for a moment. “He’s a good kid. He’ll come back to you in time. And I don’t mean just back home.”

“I was sort of hoping I could get to him before I lost him entirely," Harry said. "At least tell him I'm sorry." 

"I'm afraid you have to do that on your own, Potter." 

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation/sequel to my Quocumque Modo series. You don't necessarily have to read it to get into this one, but some things will make more sense if you choose to do so, as that series has its own background and "lore" (so to speak) that ties into this one. I'm adjusting some things from canon as well.
> 
> This will NOT be Cursed Child compliant. The characterizations will be different along with the entire plot. I haven't read/seen Cursed Child, but I am familiar with it. This will also get darker as it goes on, hence the rating. 
> 
> I will update the tags as this goes on as I admittedly only have a broad outline at the moment, so bear with me on that. 
> 
> Thank you for stopping by and I'm sorry about the length of the prologue; There was a lot to get through upfront. Stay well, stay safe.
> 
> EDIT: I've edited this to be a Part Four of the original series just to clarify that this is not a wholly independent story.


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